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TRAITS 


OF 


AMERICA. 


A  POEM. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 

FROM  THE  UNIVERSITY   PRESS. 
HLliard  and  Metcalf  Printers. 

Sold  by  Cummings  &  Hilliard,  No.  1   Cornhill,  Boston. 
1822. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  avails  of  this  work  are  devoted  exclusively 

to  religious  charities. 


i 


DISTRICT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS,  TO  WIT: 

District  Clerk'-.  Office. 

Be  it  remembered,  that  on  the  seventeenth  tiay  of  Juh  A.  D,  1822,  and 
in  the  forty-seventh  year  of  the  independence  of  the  linn**'  States  af 
America,  Cummings  £  Halliard  of  the  said  district  have  df-posited  ;n  this 
office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  they  claim  a*  proprietors,  in  the 
words  following,  to  wit  : 

"  Traits  of  the  Abortgines  of  America.      A  Poem/' 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  Congress  f  <;ii  "  .  !'>Y>  S'lir's,  entitled 
"  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learnn'g.  i,\  ••••  >•  maps, 

charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors  and   ;  i:;ng  the 

times  therein  mentioned  ;"  and  also  to  an  act,  entitied  vment- 

ary  to  an  act,  entitled  An  act  for  the  enooura^ew,;-     -t  -ouring 

the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  ta  th,  jsro-prie-ors  of  such 

copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned.  t-\.A  »;\  v-\'<-<>£  rist-  beneAt.s  Thereof 
to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  «w 'ua^  bis<om-;t!  anu  other  prints." 
fc  .  JOHN   W-   DAVIS, 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  avails  of  this  work  are  devoted  exclusively 
to  religious  charities. 


TRAITS  OF  THE  ABORIGINES. 


.• 


O'ER  the  vast  regions  of  that  Western  world, 

Whose  lofty  mountains  hiding  in  the  clouds 

Conceal'd  their  grandeur  and  their  wealth  so  long 

From  European  eyes,  the  Indian  rov'd, 

Free  and  unconquered.     From  those  frigid  plains 

Struck  with  the  torpor  of  the  Arctic  pole, 

To  where  Magellan  lifts  his  torch1  to  light 

The  meeting  of  the  waters ; — from  the  shore 

Whose  smooth  green  line  the  broad  Atlantic  laves, 

To  the  rude  borders  of  that  rocky  strait  10 

here  haughty  Asia  seems  to  stand  and  gaze 
On  the  New  Continent,  the  Indian  reign'd 
Majestic  and  alone.     Fearless  he  rose, 
Firm  as  hismountains,  like  his  rivers,  wild, 


Bold  as  those  lakes,  whose  wondrous  chain  coiatroul's 
His  northern  coast.     The  forest  and  the  wave 

Gave  him  his  food  ;  the  slidit-constructed  hut 

i 

Furnish'd  his  shelter,  and  its  doors  spread  wide 

To  every  wandering  stranger.     There  his  cup, 

His  simple  meal,  his  lowly  couch  of  skins  20 

Were  hospitably  shared.     Rude  were  his  toils, 

And  rash  his  daring,  when  he  headlong  rush'd 

Down  the  steep  precipice  to  seize  his  prey  ; 

Strong  was  his  arm  to  bend  the  stubborn  bow. 

And  keen  his  arrow.     This  the  Bison  knew, 

The  spotted  Panther,  the  rough,  shaggy  Bear, 

The  Wolf  dark-prowling,  the  eye-piercing  Lynx, 

The  wild  Deer  bounding  through  the  shadowy  glade, 

And  the  swift  Eagle,  soaring  high  to  make 

His  nest  among  the  stars.     Cloth'd  in  their  spoils       30 

He  dar'd  the  elements  ;  with  eye  sedate 

Breasted  the  wintry  winds';  o'er  the  white  heads 

Of  angry  torrents  steered  his  rapid  bark 

Light  as  their  foam,  mounted  with  tireless  speed 

Those  slippery  cliffs,  where  everlasting  snows 

Weave  their  dense  robes,  or  laid  him  down  to  sleep 

Where  the  dread  thunder  of  the  cataract  lull'd 

His  drowsy  sense.     The  dangerous  toils  of  war 


He  sought  and  lov'd.     Traditions,  and  proud  tales 

Of  other  days,  exploits  of  chieftains  bold,  40 

Dauntless  and  terrible,  the  warrior's  song, 

The  victor's  triumph, — all  conspired  to  raise 

The  martial  spirit,  kindling  in  his  breast 

With  life's  first  throb.     Oft  the  rude,  wandering  tribes 

Rush'd  on  to  battle.     Their  aspiring  chiefs 

Lofty  and  iron-fram'd,  with  native  hue 

Strangely  disguised  in  wild  and  glaring  tints, 

Frown'd  like  some  Pictish  king.  The  conflict  rag'd 

Fearless  and  fierce,  'mid  shouts  and  disarray, 

As  the  swi:t  lightning  urges  its  dire  shafts  50 

Through  clouds  and  darkness,  when  the  warring  blasts 

Awaken  midnight.     O'er  the  captive  foe 

Unsated  vengeance  storm'd.     Flame  and  slow  wounds 

Rack'd  the  strong  bonds  of  life  ;  but  the  firm  soul 

Smil'd  in  its  fortitude  to  mock  the  rage 

Of  its  tormentors  ;  when  the  crisping  nerves 

Were  broken,  still  exulting  o'er  its  pain 

To  rise  unmurmuring  to  its  father's  shades, 

Where  in  delightful  bowers  the  brave  and  just 

Rest  and  rejoice.  60 

Thus  stood  stern  Regulus, 

When  furious  Carthage  urg'd  her  torturing  darts, 
1* 


6 

Transfix'd  with  dark,  demoniac  rage  to  find 
Her  quiver  all  exhausted,  and  that  soul 
Proudly  unhurt. 

Yet  those  untutor'd  tribes, 

Bound  with  their  stern  resolves  and  savage  deeds 
Some  gentle  virtues  5  as  beneath  the  gloom 
Of  overshadowing  forests,  sweetly  springs 
The  unexpected  flower.     Oft  to  their  homes 
The  captive  youth  they  led,  into  his  wounds 
Pouring  the  oil  of  kindness,  and  with  love  70 

Alluring  him  to  fill  the  vacant  place 
Of  brother,  or  of  son,  untimely  slain 
In  the  dread  battle.2     Their  uncultur'd  hearts 
Gave  a  strong  soil  for  Friendship,  that  bold  growth 
Of  generous  affection,  changeless,  pure, 
Self-sacrificing,  counting  losses  light, 
And  yielding  life  with  gladness.     By  its  side 
Like  sister-plant,  sprang  ardent  Gratitude, 
Vivid,  perennial,  braving  winter's  frost 
And  summer's  heat ;  while  nurs'd  by  the  same  dews    80. 
Unbounded  Reverence  for  the  form  of  Age, 
Struck  its  deep  root  spontaneous,  and  display'd 
Its  fair,  decumbent  petals.     The  dim  eye, 
The  furrow'd  brow,  the  temples  thinly  clad, 


The  wasted  page  of  man's  infirm*  decline 

Awake  that  deep  respect,  not  always  trac'd 

'Mid  those  whom  Science  nurtures,  whom  the  arts 

Of  smooth  refinement  polish,  and  a  voice 

Suhlime  instructs,  "  Honour  the  head  that  bears 

The  hoary  crown  of  Age."  90 

With  pious  awe 

Their  eye  uplifted  sought  the  hidden  path 
Of  the  Great  Spirit.'    The  loud  midnight  storm. 
The  rush  of  mighty  waters,  the  deep  roll 
Of  thunder,  gave  his  voice  ;  the  golden  sun, 
The  soft  effulgence  of  the  purple  morn, 
The  gentle  rain  distilling,  was  his  smile 
Dispensing  good  to  all.     The  Spirit  of  111, 
Base  foe  to  man,  they  dreaded  ;  and  the  cry 
Of  his  vile  legions  shrieking  on  the  blast, 
Shuddering  they  heard.     In  various  forms  arose       100 
Their  superstitious  homage.     Some4  with  blood 
Of  human  sacrifices  sought  to  appease 
That  anger,  which  in  pestilence,  or  dearth, 
Or  famine  stalk'd ;  and  their  astonish'd  vale's 
Like  Carthaginian  altars,  frequent  drank 
The  horrible  libation.     Some,4  with  fruits, 
Sweet  flowers,  and  incense  of  their  choicest  herbs* 


8 

Sought  to  propitiate  HIM,  whose  powerful  hand 
Unseen,  sustain'd  them.     Some5  with  mystic  rites, 
The  ark,  the  orison,  the  paschal  feast,  110 

Through  glimmering  tradition  seem'd  to  bear, 
As  in  some  broken  vase,  the  smother'd  coals, 
Scatter'd  from  Jewish  altars. 

Let  the  heart, 

That  deems  such  semblance  but  the  baseless  dream 
Of  blind  credulity,  survey  the  trace 
Of  similarity,  bid  Truth's  clear  light 
Beam  o'er  the  misty  annal,  note  the  facts, 
Compare  the  language,  weigh  the  evidence, 
And  answer  for  itself. 

The  chrystal  tube 

Of  calm  inquiry,  to  thy  patient  eye,  120 

Meek  Boudinot !  reveal'd  an  unknown  star6 
Upon  this  western  cloud.     Its  trembling  beam 
Guided  thy  soul  to  Zion's  sacred  hill 
And  ancient  temple  ;  as  that  wondrous  ray 
Streaming  o'er  eastern  summits,  led  the  feet 
Of  the  astonish'd  Magi,  to  the  ceil 
Of  their  Messiah.     Costly  gifts  they  bore, 
Frankincense,  myrrh)  and  gold ;    but  thou  didst  yield 
The  better  offering  of  a  contrite  prayer, 


That  God  would  gather  from  the  utmost  bound,       130 

The  children  of  his  Friend,  of  the  cold  North 

And  glowing  South,  his  fugitives  require  ; 

From  Cush  and  Elam,  from  the  sea-green  isles, 

And  from  the  western  regions,  bring  again 

His  banish'd ;  bid  the  fearful  desert  bloom 

And  sing  before  them,  while  their  blinded  hearts 

Illumin'd,  catch  the  knowledge  and  the  love 

Of  Jesus  Christ.     Yet  thou  hast  risen  where  pray'r 

Is  lost  in  praise  ;  as  yields  the  thrilling  harp 

Its  symphony,  when  the  high  organ  swells  140 

In  solemn  diapason.     Thou  hast  left 

Mourning  on  earth,  'mid  those  who  feel  the  ills 

Of  Penury,  who  venerate  the  deeds 

Of  boundless  Generosity,  or  love 

The  pure  in  heart. 

But  whither  art  thou  fled, 

Adventurous  strain  ?     Resume  thy  opening  theme. 
Paint  the  bold  Indian  ranging  o'er  his  vales, 
Unaw'd,  and  unsubdued. 

Though  his  stern  heart 
Seem'd  cold  and  fixed  as  adamant,  its  cell 
Conceal'd  the  warm  fount  of  parental  love,  150 

And  felt  its  thrilling  tide.     The  lofty  chiefs, 


10 

Inur'd  by  frowning  hardship  to  despise 

The  lineaments  of  joy,  found  o'er  their  souls 

Strange  softness  stealing,  as  they  mutely  gaz'd 

Upon  the  smile  of  infancy,  or  saw, 

Waking  from  its  sweet  dream,  the  joyous  babe 

Reach  forth  its  little  hands.     The  warrior  bold, 

Who  vanquish'd  toil  and  famine,  bore  unmov'd 

The  battle-shock,  or  with  calm,  changeless  brow 

Endur'd  the  keenest  tortures,  writh'd  in  pangs         160 

Over  his  children  lost ;  while  bitter  drops 

Wrung  forth  by  anguish  stain'd  his  furrow'd  cheeks. 

In  that  dire  struggle  when  relentless  Grief 

Confronts  strong  Nature,  the  heart  cherish'd  nerve 

Broken  and  bleeding,  rent  the  stubborn  breast, 

As  uptorn  roots  dislodge  the  iron  oak 

Which  tempests  could  not  bend.     A  prey  to  grief 

Seem'd  the  sad  mothers.     The  first-rising  storm 

Of  sorrow,  passionate  and  wild,  burst  forth, 

And  in  that  deadly  calm  which  Reason  dreads         170 

Shuddering,  their  weak,  exhausted  hands  they  prest 

On  their  wan7  lips,  and  in  the  lowly  dust 

Laid  them  despairing. 

O'er  the  dreaded  grave 

Mist  and  thick  darkness  brooded ;  trembling  Hope 


11 

Vision'd  futurity ;  but  Fancy  wrought 
Incessant,  peopling  it  with  airy  shapes 
Fantastic  as  her  own. 

Now  the  fair  clime 

Was  bright  with  verdure,  lofty  forests  wav'd 
In  the  pure  breeze,  gay  deer  with  branching  horns 
Allur'd  the  hunter,  through  clear,  sparkling  streams 
Glided  the  scaly  tribes,  and  thronging  seals  180 

Innurnerous,  sporting  'mid  the  emerald  isles 
Fled  not  the  barbed  lance.     The  Arctic  sky 
Kindling  at  evening  with  resplendent  hues 
Crimson  and  gold,  in  changeful  wreaths  combined, 
To  the  poor  Greenlander  reveal'd  the  dance 
Of  happy  spirits,8  who  in  fields  of  bliss 
Weave  their  light  measures.     But  anon,  pale  Fear 
With  trembling  pencil  trac'd  a  gulph  of  woe 
Throng'd  with  unearthly  shapes,  whose  dizzy  bridge    190 
Tottering,  and  guarded  by  a  monster  fierce, 
How  few  could  pass !  The  first  sad  days  of  grief, 
Were  dark  and  dreadful.     The  tear-blinded  eye 
Pursues  the  wanderer,  as  he  seems  to  urge 
His  toilsome  journey.     His  adventurous  foot, 
Uncertain,  slides  upon  that  slippery  bridge 
Which  like  a  tremulous  and  shrivell'd  thread 


Shoots  the  abyss  of  flame.     Falling  he  rolls 

Upon  the  fiery  flood,  struggling  to  gain 

The  far,  dim  coast,  where  angry  dragons  wait  200 

With  jaws  distain'd  and  scaly  strength  to  attack 

The  weary  traveller,  ere  he  reach  the  abode 

Of  happy  spirits.     Hence  the  mourners  place 

By  their  lamented  friend,  his  trusty  bow, 

Arrows  and  food,  and  closely  wrapt  in  skins 

They  leave  him  standing  in  his  narrow  cell 

Prepar'd  for  combat. 

Thus  the  warlike  Earl 
Stern  Seward,9   in  his  armour  brac'd,  erect, 
Met  gris<y  Death,  his  last  competitor, 
But  his  first  conqueror.     Some,  half  reclin'd  210 

Sit  in  their  mouldering  graves,  prepaid  to  hold 
Converse  with  Death's  dark  angels,  when  they  come 
Sweeping  on  sable  pinions  through  the  gloom, 
Strong  and  terrific.     Others,  tow'rd10  the  east 
With  faces  turn'd,  repose  ;  that  when  the  morn 
Expected,  breaks  their  slumber,  its  first  ray 
May  guide  them  to  that  country  where  their  sires 
Dwelt  in  past  ages. 

O'er  the  lonely  tomb 

Affection  linger'd  watchful.     Weed  nor  thorn1  * 


13 

Might  choke  the  young  turf  springing,  nor  the  hand  220 
Of  wantonness  deface  it.     The  keen  eye 
Of  Valour,  glancing  o'er  this  sacred  trust, 
Turn'd  like  the  sword  which  barr'd  the  step  of  guilt 
.From  silent  Eden.     Thus  the  Scythian  tribes,12 
Wandering  without  a  city,  call'd  to  guard 
Nor  dome,  nor  temple,  took  their  dauntless  stand 
Upon  their  fathers'  sepulchres,  and  taught 
The  boastful  Persian,  that  the  kindling  flame 
Caught  from  their  ashes,  like  the  lightning's  wrath 
Could  blast  his  legions.     Thus  the  natives  dwelt,     230 
Fearless,  nor  asking  aught  save  what  their  realm 
Amply  supplied.     They  had  not  learnt  to  change 
Heaven's  gifts  to  poisons,  nor  the  aliment 
That  cheers  the  body,  to  th'  imprisoning  bond 
Of  th'  ethereal  mind.     No  baleful  arts 
Ofchymistry  transform'd  the  staff  of  life 
To  Riot's  weapon,  and  the  tottering  props 
Of  Death's  dark  throne.     They  knew  not  then  to  mark 
With  sparkling  eye  the  transmigration  foul 
Of  Earth's  blest  harvest  melted  in  the  bowl  240 

Inebriate.     Nor  had  the  fatal  charm 
Of  Luxury  seduced  them  to  subject 
Spirit  to  sense,  binding  the  lofty  soul 
2 


14 

A  vassal  at  the  revel  and  the  feast, 

Like  purple  Dives.     Temperance  was  theirs; 

Theirs  the  elastic,  the  unruffled  flow 

Of  spirits  and  of  blood,  the  nerve  firm-brac'd. 

The  vigorous  mind,  th'  undreaded  day  of  toil, 

And  the  pure  dream.     Say,  can  the  eye  that  mark'd 

Their  simple  majesty,  and  their  bold  hearts  250 

Free  and  unfettered,  as  the  wind  that  swept 

Their  cloud-capt  mountains,  bear  to  turn  and  trace 

The  dark  reverse  ? 

First,  to  their  northern  coast 
Wander'd  the  Scandinavians,  urging  on 
O'er  the  cold  billows  their  storm-driven  boats, 
And  pleas'd  to  rest,  and  rear  their  clay-built  cells 
Where  seem'd  a  trace  of  verdure.     Ericke13  steer'd 
From  that  lone  isle  which  Nature's  poising  hand 
Cast  'tween  the  continents.     There  Winter  frames 
The  boldest  architecture,  rears  strong  tow'rs  260 

Of  rugged  frost-work,  and  deep-labouring  throws 
A  glassy  pavement  o'er  rude  tossing  floods. 
Long  near  this  coast  he  lingered,  half-illum'd 
By  the  red  gleaming  of  those  fitful  flames 
Which  wrathful  Hecla  through  her  veil  of  snow? 
Darts  on  the  ebon  night.     Oft  he  recall'd 


15 

Pensive,  his  simple  home,  ere  the  New  World 

Enwrapt  in  polar  rohes,  with  frigid  eye 

Receiv'd  him,  and  in  rude  winds  hoarsely  hail'd 

Her  earliest  guest.  Thus  the  stern  king  of  storms,      270 

Swart  Eolus,  bade  his  imprisoned  blasts 

Breathe  dissonant  welcome  to  the  restless  queen, 

Consort  of  Jove,  whose  unaccustom'd  step 

Invaded  his  retreat.     The  pilgrim  band 

Amaz'd  beheld  those  mountain  ramparts  float 

Around  their  coast,  where  hoary  Time  had  toil'd 

Ev'n  from  his  infancy,  to  point  sublime 

Their  pyramids,  and  strike  their  awful  base 

Deep  'neath  the  main.     Say,  Darwin  P  4  Fancy's  son  ! 

What  armour  shall  he  choose  who  dares  complete    280 

Thine  embassy  to  the  dire  kings  who  frown 

Upon  those  thrones  of  frost  ? — What  force  compel 

Their  abdication  of  their  favour'd  realm 

And  rightful  royalty  ? — What  pilot's  eye 

Unglaz'd  by  Death,  direct  their  devious  course 

(Tremendous  navigation  !)  to  allay 

The  fervour  of  the  tropics  ?     Proudly  gleam 

Their  sparkling  masses,  shaming  the  brief  dome 

Which  Russia's  empress-queen15  bade  the  chill  boor 

Quench  life's  frail  lamp  to  rear.     Now  they  assume  290 


16 

The  front  of  old  cathedral  gray  with  years  5 

Anon  their  castellated  turrets  glow 

In  high  baronial  pomp  ;  then  the  tall  mast 

Of  lofty  frigate,  peering  o'er  the  cloud 

Attracts  the  eye;  or  some  fair  island  spreads 

Towns,  tow'rs,  and  mountains,  cradled  in  a  flood 

Of  rainbow  lustre,  changeful  as  the  web 

From  fairy  loom,  and  wild  as  fabled  tales 

OfAraby. 

Amid  these  icy  fields 

Mark'd  they  the  Ocean  monarch,  in  his  sports          300 
Terrific,  lashing  the  wide-foaming  surge, 
Untaught  to  dread  the  harpoon,  or  to  yield 
In  tides  of  blood  upon  the  billowy  plain 
His  regency  to  man.     From  eastern  climes 
Where  Maelstrom's  vortex  threats  the  trembling  isles 
Of  Lofoden  and  Mbskoe,  where  the  hand 
Of  Nature  in  her  wildness  stamps  the  seal 
Of  terror  on  her  deeds,  from  Norway's  realm 
Whose  pine-clad  forests  hail  the  tardy  ray 
Of  the  spent  sun,  who  journeying  o'er  the  heights     310 
Of  sky-wrapt  Dofrefield,  exhausted  sinks 
Upon  his  western  couch, — from  thence  the  band 
Of  peaceful  exiles  caught  in  cheering  beams 


17 

Salvation's  radiance.     To  their  humble  cells 
Came  holy  men,  by  pious  OlaPs16  zeal 
Wing'd  on  their  mission.     Bowing  from  his  throne 
To  the  baptismal  font,  his  soul  imbib'd 
Pity  for  distant  heathen,  and  he  stretch'd 
The  sceptre  of  his  love  to  the  far  realm 
Of  Greenland's  loneliness.     Then  churches  rose,      320 
And  from  the  lips  of  priests  and  bishops  fell 
Sublime  instruction,  like  the  dews  of  heaven 
Upon  the  sons  of  Ericke.     These  by  Time 
Mix'd  and  incorporate  with  the  native  race 
Content  remain'd,  and  wrought  no  change  of  wrong 
Or  tyrrany.     These  too,  the  Esquimaux 
Wrapping  his  dwindled  frame  in  the  stol'n  robe 
Of  bear  or  rein-deer,  and  in  uncouth  sounds 
Conning  his  legends  'mid  his  long,  drear  night 
Counts  as  his  sires.  330 

And  did  thy  footsteps  press 

These  western  shores,  thou,  whom  the  laureate  Muse 
Of  ardent  Southey,  from  her  rapid  car 
Array'd  in  cloud-wrought  garniture,  with  stars 
Of  epic  lustre,  Madoc!17   wandering  son 
Of  that  unconquer'd  clime,  whose  rifted  rocks 
Travers'd  by  browsing  goats,  still  from  deep  cells 
2* 


18 

Pour  tuneful  forth  the  treasur'd  minstrelsy15 
Of  Tariessen's  harp  ? 

Age  roll'd  o'er  age 

Ere  the  slight  prow  of  bold  Columbus  broke 
Its  unknown  way,  and  plough'd  the  wrathful  deep.    340 
The  poor  Lucayan,  as  he  stood  and  gaz'd 
On  those  tall  ships,  and  those  mysterious  men 
With  brows  so  pale,  and  words  of  loftiest  tone 
Fancied  them  Gods,  nor  dream'd  their  secret  aim 
Was  theft  and  cruelty,  to  snatch  the  gold 
That  sparkled  in  their  streams,  and  bid  their  blood 
Stain  those  pure  waters.     Yet  the  victor  spake 
Of  their  mild  manners,  their  deportment  kind, 
Generous  and  just,  even  to  the  hordes  that  wrought 
Their  misery  and  death.     Once  as  he  rov'd  350 

With  ardent  eye  surveying  this  New  World, 
From  his  green  summer  bow'r,  an  aged  man 
Came  forth  to  meet  him.     As  a  patriarch,  grave, 
Yet  vigorous  he  seem'd  ;  thin,  silver  locks 
Wav'd  o'er  his  temples,  and  his  form  display'd 
That  calm  and  graceful  dignity  which  Time 
Tempers,  but  not  destroys.  With  courteous  air 
Ripe  fruits  he  offer'd,  from  the  juicy  stem 
New-cull'd  and  fragrant,  while  with  gentle  words 
Bowing,  he  spake —  360 


19 

"  See  ye  these  verdant  vales, 
And  spicy  forests,  where  we  careless  live 
In  simple  plenty  ?     From  far  distant  lands 
A  differing  and  superiour  race  you  come, 
With  mighty  weapons,  and  a  vvarklike  force 
To  us  resistless.     We  have  not  the  heart 
To  harm  the  stranger,  or  to  see  your  blood 
Staining  our  arrows.     Yet  if  men  you  are, 
Like  us,  subject  to  death  ;  if  ye  believe 
As  we  have  heard,  that  after  this  short  life 
Another  comes,  unending,  where  all  deeds  370 

Receive  their  due  reward,  we  need  not  fear 
To  trust  your  mercy,  for  you  cannot  seek 
To  wound  the  innocent." 

Perchance  the  appeal 

Which  seem'd  so  feeble  to  that  conquering  chief, 
Was  ponder'd  deeper  when  his  soul  had  lost 
The  pride  of  pow'r.     Perchance19  in  his  lone  cell 
At  Valladolid,  that  mild  voice  might  rise 
In  Memory's  echoes,  striking  on  his  ear 
With  painful  cadence,  as  he  sought  the  tomb, 
Urg'd  on  and  blasted  by  the  withering  frown  380 

Of  an  ungrateful  country. 


20 

When  the  steps 

Of  the  invaders  first  imprest  the  shores 
Of  the  New  World,  say,  did  no  dark  eclipse 
Pervade  thy  skies,  fair  Mexico  f     No  sound 
Portentous,  warn  thee  that  the  spoilers  came 
To  riot  on  thy  glory  ?     Mark'd2  °  thy  seers 
5Mid  the  dim  vista  of  futurity 
Aught  like  the  step  of  Cortez,  like  his  glance 
Withering  thy  charms,  as  the  false  Spirit's  eye 
On  sinless  Eden  ?     Pour'd  the  scroll  of  Fate  390 

No  fearful  blackness  o'er  the  final  hour 
Of  hapless  Montezuma?  Bright  the  Sun 
Still  shone,  Peru !  upon  thy  diamond  cliffs, 
Cheer'd  the  soft  flow'ret,  blushing,  while  its  roots 
Sprang  from  the  sparkling  ore,  gilded  the  dome 
Of  Capac's  lofty  temple,  gave  one  smile 
To  his  delighted  children,  though  its  beam 
Was  but  the  sad  farewell  of  peace,  and  hope, 
And  liberty.     Deep  were  thy  prison  sighs 
Ahatualpa!21  Vain  thy  high  descent  400 

From  mighty  Incas ;    vain  thy  simple  truth 
And  free  confiding  kindness  to  these  sons 
Of  desolation.     Not  thy  profFer'd  gold, 
Profuse  as  grasping  Mammon's  boundless  wish. 


21 

Could  sooth  the  tyrant's  guilty  thirst  of  blood, 

Or  bind  his  perfidy.     But  thou  must  bend 

In  all  thy  mildness  to  the  blasting  doom 

Of  base  Pizarro.     Ev'n  Religion  lends 

A  mockery  to  the  deed.     Methinks  I  see 

That  kneeling  monarch  at  the  peaceful  font  410 

Of  holy  baptism,  bearing  on  his  lip 

The  name  of  Christ,  while  those  profaning  bands 

Who  bless  his  cross,  yet  trample  on  his  blood 

Prepare  th'  unjust,  the  ignominious  pang 

Of  black'ning  torture.     But  the  hour  is  near, 

Unprincipled  Pizarro,  when  thy  breast 

Shall  feel  the  assassin's  poniard,  and  thy  soul 

Fleet  where  the  opprest,  and  the  oppressor  meet, 

Stript  of  the  baseless  pow'r,  and  tyrant  pomp 

Of  this  vain  world.  420 

Soon  in  the  track  mark'd  out 
By  haughty  Spain,  the  Lusitanian22  bands 
Came  flocking ;  from  scant  bounds  and  despot  sway, 
Eager  for  space  and  freedom,  their  rude  hands 
Grasp'd  the  wide  zone  from  where  th'  Equator  marks 
The  mouth  of  Amazon,  to  the  broad  sea 
Of  the  La  Plata.     Sweetly  were  thy  vales 
Smiling,  Oh  fair  Brazil !  on  their  new  lords, 


22 

Unconscious  that  their  harvests  many  a  year 

Must  rise  and  fatten  in  the  richest  blood 

Of  their  own  sons.     Far  northward,  where  the  chill  430 

Of  winter  linger'd,  steer'd  the  crews  of  France, 

And  with  a  giddy  and  vivacious  joy 

Snatch'd  for  themselves  a  cold  Acadia,23   white 

With  frost,  and  drifted  snow.     Onward  they  prest, 

Toward  where  its  source  the  proud  St.  Lawrence  owns, 

As  Nilus24  'mid  th'  Abyssinian  wastes 

Reveals  through  fringed  reeds,  and  willows  dank 

His  azure  eyes.     With  trembling  awe  they  mark'd 

Bold  Niagara  hurling  down  the  steep 

Eternal  thunders,  while  the  battle  shock  440 

Of  rocks  and  waters  in  his  gulf  profound 

Forever  by  the  rushing  column  swoln, 

Uprears  a  misty  canopy  to  involve 

The  fearful  conflict.     Eagerly  they  trac'd 

That  land  which  bounding  the  broad  lakes,  erects 

A  lofty  aspect,  where  the  dying  sigh 

Of  Wolfe,  on  victory's  bloody  couch  arose, 

Where  bold  Montgomery  sank  'mid  patriot  tears, 

And  Arnold  urged  the  combat,  ere  his  foot 

Prest  dark  Perdition's  portal.  450 


23 

Sad  of  cheer 

Seem  Gallia's  sons,  as  if  their  thoughts  recall 
A  brighter  clime.     Ev'n  thus  in  later  times 
Gleam  thy  wan  features  o'er  the  billowy  surge, 
Poor  German25  Exile  !  by  the  heavy  weight 
Of  a  dense  population  forc'd  away 
From  the  smooth  verdure  of  thy  vales,  to  float 
Like  feather  o'er  the  wave.     1  see  thee  launch 
Amid  the  throng !  The  deeply  laden  bark 
Moves  like  a  slave-ship  o'er  the  tossing  main. 
Thou  spiest  distant  mountains,  and  art  told  460 

There  is  Columbia.     Thy  sad  eye  relumes 
Its  wonted  brightness,  trusting  there  to  find 
A  Paradise.     Thy  trembling  footsteps  press 
The  shore  of  strangers,  and  a  foreign  voice 
Bids  gold  against  thy  freedom.     Thou  art  sold 
To  pay  thy  famish'd  voyage  !  'Mid  the  toil 
Of  thy  hard  term  of  service,  think'st  thou  nought 
Of  cherish'd  Germany  ?     Say,  does  no  dream 
Of  fugitive  delight  glide  o'er  the  spot 
That  gave  thee  birth  ?   Men  of  strange  brows  are  here, 
Of  other  manners,  and  of  unknown  speech.  471 

And  the  sad  eyes  of  thy  untutor'd  babes 
Gaze  wildly  on  them.     Hadst  thou  ne'er  a  hut 


24 

Shelter'd  by  some  cool  spreading  tree  ? — a  stream 

To  slake  thy  thirst  ? — a  morsel  to  refresh 

Thy  wasted  strength  ?  that  thou  should'st  roam  to  lay 

Thy  humble  head  beneath  a  stranger's  turf, 

Poor  Emigrant  ?    Hast  thou  no  bond  of  love, 

Proud  Germany  !  to  bind  thy  sons  to  thee  ? 

No  chanties  of  home,  that  they  should  fly  480 

Thy  glance  parental  ? 

Still  thy  breast  conceals 
The  feudal26  spirit,  prompting  thee  to  count 
Thy  sons,  thy  vassals.     But  thou,  sterner  France, 
Didst  with  thy  persecuting  scourge  drive  forth 
Thy  worthiest  offspring,  they  who  "  held  the  truth 
In  righteousness  of  life."     Backward  they  turn 
Their  eyes  on  that  delightful  land,  so  lov'd 
Of  bounteous  Nature,  yet  with  deeds  of  blood 
So  darkly  stain'd.     As  the  receding  coast 
Fades  on  the  wave,  the  scenes  of  other  days  490 

Brighten  their  lineaments.     Majestic  shades 
Of  buried  heroes  rise,  array'd  in  pow'r, 
As  if  they  still  the  field  of  mortal  strife 
Rul'd  in  their  might.     The  form27  of  Conde  gleams 
As  -when  at  Jarnac,  rising  o'er  his  wounds 
In  scornful  valour,  or  with  deep  reproach 


25 

Silent,  yet  poignant  in  his  dying  eye 
Transfixing  the  assassin's  soul  who  pierc'd 
A  heart  which  kings  had  reverenc'd. 

With  low  sigh 

Where  strong  emotions  mingle,  they  recall  500 

The  great  Coligny,  who  alike  in  camp 
And  council  proudly  on  his  front  display'd 
The  name  of  Hugonot.     But  as  the  sire, 
To  whom  th'  approaching  grave  betokens  rest, 
Thinks  of  his  sons,  his  eye  that  Hero2  8  turn'd 
Toward  the  New  World,  solicitous  to  find 
A  refuge  for  his  followers.     See,  he  falls ! 
The  tumult  rages  !     The  fierce  Guises  steep 
Their  swords  in  blood,  and  the  insatiate  soul 
Of  Catharine  riots  in  the  dire  repast.  510 

Oh  night  of  horror  !  night  of  nameless  guilt ! 
To  be  remember'd  while  the  world  shall  stand, 
With  stern  abhorrence. 

See,  the  pious  few 

Escape  to  this  far  coast.     Firmly  they  bear 
Their  lot  of  sorrow,  while  they  meekly  bend 
Over  the  page  inspir'd.     Hail,  holy  book  ! 
Best  gift  of  Heaven,  instructing  Man  to  bear 
Life's  discipline,  with  eye  devoutly  fix'd 
3 


26 

On  Mercy's  purpose,  through  the  wildering  maze 

Of  fate,  or  storm  of  woe,  discovering  oft  520 

That  golden  chain  fast  linking  all  below 

To  Wisdom's  throne.     Divinely  didst  thou  shed 

In  earliest  ages  on  prophetic  souls,        . 

Through  types  and  symbols,  a  prelusive  beam 

Of  HIS  approach  whose  sorrow  was  our  peace. 

Hail,  harp  of  Prophecy  !  to  mortal  touch 

Attun'd  by  the  Great  Spirit !     Him  who  mov'd 

Upon  the  murmuring  waters,  when  the  light 

Sprang  out  of  Chaos,  and  who  breath'd  the  soul 

Of  inspiration  into  holy  breasts  530 

Of  seers  and  patriarchs,  when  their  raptur'd  strains 

Hymn'd  the  Messiah. 

Hail,  mysterious  harp  ! 
That  'mid  the  trees  of  Paradise  wert  hung, 
Wreath'd  with  unsullied  roses.     Thou  wert  wak'd 
From  Eden's  dewy  slumbers  by  the  touch 
Of  the  Eternal,  while  thy  trembling  chords 
Awfully  prest,  spake  of  the  future  God 
Incarnate,  who  should  bruise  the  crested  head 
Of  the  foul  serpent. 

At  the  lapse  of  Man 
Thy  garlands  wither'd,  and  a  mournful  wreath        540 


27 

Of  cypress  buds  entvvin'd  thee,  shuddering  deep., 
As  thy  sad  voice  pour'd  forth  the  fatal  doom 
Of  him  who  was  but  dust. 

Anon  thy  tones 

Breath'd  in  soft  cadence  on  the  wond'ring  ear 
Of  righteous  Abraham.     Pensively  he  mark'd 
The  vales  of  Haran,  fond  to  linger  near 
His  father's  sepulchres,  revolving  deep 
The  fiat  to  forsake  his  cherish'd  home 
Kindred  and  country.     Then  didst  thou  confirm 
His  high  obedience  by  thy  heavenly  strain,  550 

Cheering  his  soul  with  promises  of  HIM 
In  whom  his  race  unborn,  and  all  the  earth 
With  her  uncounted  families  should  joy 
And  find  a  blessing.     Thou  didst  faintly  gleam 
Upon  the  eye  of  Jacob,  as  he  lay 
In  his  death-trance.     With  cold  yet  pow'rful  hand 
He  prest  thee,  and  thine  utterance  was  a  sound 
That  fir'd  with  extacy  his  glowing  eye. 
Thou  didst  announce  Messiah  in  his  power 
Coming  to  Zion,  as  the  sceptre  fell  560 

From  humbled  Judah.     Balaam's  doubtful  hand 
Rov'd  o'er  thy  secret  chords,  though  his  heart  shrunk 
At  the  exulting  praise?  of  the  Star 


28 

'That  should  arise  for  Israel,  and  the  might 

Of  that  high  sceptre,  which  in  distant  days 

Should  crush  his  foes.     The  Psalmist's  tuneful  touch 

Rul'd  thee,  Oh  sacred  Harp,  with  skill  so  sweet 

So  masterly,  that  angels  deem'd  they  heard 

Earth  echo  their  own  lyres,  and  bent  to  learn 

Of  mysteries,  which  they  had  long  desir'd  570 

In  vain  to  comprehend.     Isaiah  wak'd 

To  melody  thy  diapason  strong, 

Till  thy  rous'd  strings  pour'd  forth  in  strains  divine 

The  glories  of  Emmanuel.     Deep  they  moan'd 

In  broken  cadence  of  his  earthly  woes, 

His  word  despis'd    his  visage  marr'd,  his  form 

Laid  in  the  tomb,  and  then  in  raptur'd  tones 

Of  thrilling  music,  chanted  of  his  throne 

O'er  all  the  eacth,  when  heav'n-born    peace    should 

reign, 

And  the  fierce  lion  turning  from  his  rage  580 

Caress  the  lamb.     The  weeping  prophet's  tears 
Dew'd  thee,  Oh  Harp  I  as  from  thy  chords  he  drew 
Music  of  heaven,  still  soflen'd  by  his  sighs 
For  Zion's  ruin,  for  the  wounds  that  rent 
The  "  daughter  of  his  people." 


29 

He,  who  saw 

On  Chebar's  banks  higb  visions,  caught  thy  gleam 

Of  sudden  beauty  through  the  parted  clouds 

And  hasting,  press'd  thee.     Daniel  swept  thy  strings, 

And  Haggai  made  thee  vocal,  'mid  the  tide 

Of  ecstacy,  that  rushing  bore  away  590 

The  mists  of  time,  and  made  the  future  stand 

Unveil'd  and  glowing.     Malachi  came  last 

In  the  long  range  majestic  of  Heaven's  seers. 

Kneeling,  the  sacred  harp  of  God  he  took, 

And  prest  it  to  his  lips.     His  hand  essay'd 

To  rouse  it,  and  its  treasur'd  voice  awoke 

Thrilling  and  tremulous.     But  Oh  !  a  Power 

Invisible  controul'd  it,  and  its  strings 

Quiv'ring,  were  broken. 

Nature  seem'd  to  mourn 

The  awful  wreck.     Night  came,  and  darkness  fell,  600 
Long  darkness.     On  the  head  of  hoary  Time 
It  settled,  and  desponding  mortals  wept 
While  tardy  ages  slowly  rose  to  birth 
And  roll'd  away.     At  length  the  twilight  dawn'd 
O'er  the  dim  mountains,  and  that  day-star  shone 
Whose  short  ray,  fading  on  the  rosy  cloud, 
Anuounc'd  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.     A  voice 


30 

Cry'd  in  the  wilderness,  and  roughly  ckd, 

Exhorting  to  repentance,  with  stern  brow 

Stood  the  forerunner  of  our  Lord,  to  mark  610 

His  way  before  him.     Like  a  beam  he  glow'd, 

Severing  the  midnight  of  the  legal  rites 

From  the  glad  gospel's  morn.     But  the  frail  lamp 

Was  quench'd  in  blood,  and  o'er  the  dazzled  skies 

Rose  earth's  salvation.     Seraph  lyres  awoke 

Responsive,  breathing  forth  "  good  will  and  peace'5 

In  strains  of  rapture,  and  the  shepherd  train 

Watching  their  flocks,  beheld  that  glorious  star, 

Whose  orb  mysterious  cast  a  healing  ray 

O'er  all  the  nations.  620 


31 


BEHOLD  they  come  ! — O'er  the  wide-tossing  sea 
Their  ships  adventurous  throng.     Their  tall  masts  cleavft 
The  dim  horizon,  and  what  seem'd  but  specks 
On  Ocean's  bosom,  spread  wide,  snowy  sails 
Curtaining  the  rocky  shore.     In  crowds  descend 
The  eager  inmates,  joyous  to  escape 
Their  floating  prison  and  unvarying  view 
Of  the  eternal  wave.     Almost  it  seem'd 
As  if  old  Europe,  weary  of  her  load, 
Pour'd  on  a  younger  world  her  thousand  sons  10 

In  ceaseless  deluge.     Thus,  when  he  whose  eye 
"  Eclips'd  by  drop  serene,"  more  clearly  saw 
Things  hid  from  mortal  vision,  sang  sublime 
Of  war  in  Heaven,  the  "  seated  hillocks"  rose, 
And  uptorn  mounts  their  myriad  streams  disgorg'd 
Whelming  the  recreant  angels. 

Thither  came 

To  Nature's  boldest  scenery,  men  who  saw 
No  beauty  in  her  charms,  iu  the  dark  arch 


32 

Of  mountain  forest  springing  to  the  skies 

E'er  since  Creation,  on  the  mighty  cliff  26 

Crown'd  with  rich  light,  or  wrapt  in  sable  clouds 

No  grandeur  trac'd ;    for  still  their  eyes  were  bent 

In  the  dark  caverns  of  the  Earth  to  grope 

For  drossy  ore.1     These,  in  the  chrystal  streara 

Fring'd  with  the  silvery  willow,  in  the  foam 

Of  the  wild  thundering  cataract,  bearing  on 

A  mighty  tribute  to  the  swelling  sea, 

Beheld  no  majesty,  nor  deign'd  a  glance 

Save  on  the  glittering  sediment.     To  Heaven, 

If  it  were  possible,  that  to  the  seat  30 

Of  God  such  souls  might  soar,  no  thought  of  bliss 

Could  reach  them  there,  except  to  gaze  intense 

Upon  the  golden  pavement.     Thither  hied 

Ambition,  deck'd  with  nodding  plumes,  and  proud 

In  martial  port.     What  saw  he  to  allure 

His  haughty  glance,  amid  a  simple  race 

Content  like  poor  Caractacus  to  hold 

Nought  but  a  humble  hovel?     Yet  he  snatch'd 

His  trophies  from  the  savage,  with  a  hand 

More  savage  still,  nor  did  his  stern  soul  shrink  40 

To  find  his  laurels  tarnish'd  with  the  blood 

Of  Innocence.     Here  too  the  patriot  came 


33 

Indignant  at  tb'  oppressor,  proud  to  dwell 

With  liberty,  though  on  the  storm-rock'd  cliff, 

Where  the  stern  Eagle  broods.     The  Poet2  lur'd 

His  muse  to  emigrate,  and  fondly  told 

Of  sylvan  haunts,  and  fairy  domes  ;  but  frost 

Chain'd  her  light  pinion,  and  the  sun-beam  cast 

That  cold  regard,  which  like  some  icy  chill 

Still  withers  genius.     Here,  with  footsteps  slow          60 

Came  calm  philosophers,  shunning  the  throng 

Who  waste  existence  in  an  empty  chase 

Of  frail  ephemera,     to  merge  the  soul 

In  solitude,  as  in  her  element 

Of  purest  health,  and  pause  o'er  Nature's  chain 

Where  link  by  link,  with  mystic  art  she  binds 

Terrestrial  to  div7ine. 

The  Christian  knelt 
Upon  this  rocky  strand,  intent  to  build 
His  tabernacle  where  despotic  pow'r 
Might  rear  no  image,  and  compel  his  soul  G$ 

To  offer  homage — where  the  spirit's  eye 
Might  seek  its  sire,  uncheck'd  by  the  dire  bolt 
Of  persecution's  thunder,  and  with  awe 
Amid  the  silence  of  his  works,  revere 
The  great  Creator.     Thus  with  varying  aim 


34 

Flock'd  the  firm  Swede,  bold  Danube's  patient  sons. 

The  toiling  Belgian,  Albions  patriot  race, 

And  thine,  Oh  Caledon  !  blest  land  of  song, 

While  fair  Hibernia  pour'd  in  throngs  profuse 

Her  ardent  offspring.     Guided  by  the  breath  70 

Of  southern  gales,  the  bands  of  England  steer'd 

Where  the  proud  waters  of  the  mighty  James, 

And  swift  Potomac,  mark'd  the  broad  domain 

Of  great  Powhatan.     He  more  years  had  told 

Than  hoary  Nestor.     Thrice3  had  he  beheld 

His  fading  race  scatter'd  like  autumn  leaves, 

While  he,  unshorn  and  unsubdu'd,  remain'd 

King  of  the  forest.     To  his  region  came, 

Aiding  the  adventurous,  one  whose  daring  soul 

Breath'd  the  high  spirit  of  heroic  deeds,  80 

The  brave,  accomplish'd  Smith.4    His  dauntless  mind 

And  vigorous  frame,  scorning  fatigue  and  toil, 

Had  gathered  laurels  from  the  lofty  heights 

Of  martial  Europe,  from  the  battle  fields 

Of  sultry  Asia,  where  pure  Christian  blood 

Mingling  with  the  dark  tide  from  Turkish  veins', 

Had  stain'd  the  red-cross  banners. 


35 

Buoyant  Hope 

Still  smiling  in  his  eye,  while  other  brows 

Were  blanch'd  with  terror,  or  with  wan  despair 

The  giddy  heights  of  Fame  he  had  achiev'd,  90 

The  goal  of  strange  adventure,  and  the  maze 

Of  deep  Romance,  ere  Manhood's  tinge5  had  bronz'd 

His  blooming  cheek.     The  syren  charms  of  wealth 

Cluster'd  around  his  cradle,  and  the  lawns 

Of  Willoughby,  replete  with  genial  gales 

Nurtur'd  his  roving  boyhood.     There  he  shar'd 

Sport,  such  as  hardihood  and  danger  love, 

Though  it  mocks  at  them.     From  historic  lore 

A  restless,  kindling  impulse  caught  the  flame 

That  fir'd  heroic  souls;  and  as  he  bent,  100 

A  silent  student  o'er  his  daily  task, 

Unfetter'd  fancy  bore  him  far  beyond 

His  island  home,  to  rove  in  distant  climes, 

And  act  in  other  ages,  with  the  men 

* 

Of  high  renovrn.     And  when  his  joyous  youth 

Mark'd  with  a  traveller's  eye,  the  varied  scenes 

Of  Europe's  grandeur,  not  the  beauteous  Seine 

Winding  through  flow'ry  vales,  or  crown'd  with  domes 

Of  gay  Parisian  luxury,  nor  yet 

Those  arts  by  which  the  patient  Hollander  110 


36 

Props  his  scant  birthright  'gainst  usurping  seas, 
Nor  Nature's  majesty,  when  on  the  Alps 
She  rests  her  cloudy  coronet,  could  charm 
His  sanguine  heart,  like  the  red  chart  of  war 
Graven  on  hero's  monument,  or  drawn 
In  fearful  lines  upon  the  furrow'd  earth 
Where  battles  once  were  fought. 

The  rocky  bounds 
Of  Caledonia  next  his  step  explored, 
Seeking  its  monarch's  court :  for  there  he  thought 
Amid  that  brave  and  high-soul'd  race  to  meet  120 

Some  kindred  spirits.     But  the  pedant  king, 
Offspring  of  beauteous  Mary,  soon  to  wield 
The  Stuart  sceptre  o'er  high  Albion's  throne, 
Allur'd  by  promises  the  youthful  band 
To  throng  around  him,  yet  no  food  supplied 
To  cheer  ambition.     Smith's  impetuous  sword 
Spurn'd  at  the  thistly  harvest,  as  he  sought 
Once  more  his  native  halls.     But  not  the  joys 
Of  softening  home  might  lure  that  Spartan  soul 
Girding  its  armour  on.     From  the  fair  domes  130 

Where  lingering  Courtesy  too  oft  detain'd 
His  coldly  render'd  time,  the  youth  recluse 
Turn'd  to  the  forest,  and  'mid  deepest  shades 


37 

Chose  out  a  silent  spot.     Riven  from  their  trunks 
Firm  boughs  of  cedar  with  the  knotty  oak 
He  interwove,  in  architecture  rude, 
Forming  a  green  pavilion.     There  he  gave 
His  soul  its  favourite  lore,  the  rudiments 
Of  warlike  science  ;  or  on  fiery  steed 
With  glittering  lance,  evinc'd  in  graceful  feat  140 

Of  manly  daring,  or  of  martial  skill 
His  ponder'd  theory.     Thus  the  fam'd  prince 
Of  eloquence,  sublime  Demosthenes, 
Pent  in  his  subterranean  cell,  pursued 
The  art  he  lov'd,  or  mid  the  Ocean's  roar 
Utter'd  its  precepts.     Still  this  close  recess 
Was  sacred  from  the  interrupting  foot 
Of  Idleness,  from  enervating  sports 
And  light  amusements  of  the  giddy  throng  ; 
Hither  no  soft  Indulgence  gliding  came  150 

In  Epicurean  robe,  nor  Beauty's  brow 
Bent  its  keen  glance  of  sarcasm  to  annoy 
The  military  anchorite.     But  sounds 
Of  distant  war,  of  battle  grimly  fought 
Beneath  the  cloud  of  Turkish  banners,  came, 
Loading  the  deep-ton'd  gale.     As  the  proud  steed, 
Long  held  in  durance,  hears  the  trumpet  blast 
4 


38 

And  struggling,  rends  the  earth,  thus  the  bold  youth 

Undisciplin'd,  unsanction'd,  unrestrain'd 

By  sage  experience,  rushes  on  his  course.  160 

This  eager  zeal  he  strove  to  sanctify 

With  high  devotion's  name,  and,  as  he  took 

His  rapid  journey,  often  ask'd  his  heart 

With  angry  emphasis,  if  it  were  meet 

That  ancient  city  where  the  Saviour  pour'd 

His  dying  blood,  should  bow  its  hallow'd  head 

To  sacrilegious  thraldom  ?     Thus  is  Man 

Prone  with  Religion's  front  to  dignify 

His  doubtful  deeds,  baptising  in  Heaven's  name 

His  earthly  promptings. 

Where  Marseilles  retreats        1 70 
To  rocky  barrier,6  from  sea-beaten  shore, 
'Mid  thronging  masts,  the  traveller's  glance  espies 
A  parting  sail,  and  up  the  vessel's  side 
Ascends  with  little  question.     Here  he  found 
A  throng  of  devotees,  in  pilgrim's  weeds, 
Bound  to  Loretto,  there  to  consummate 
Penance  or  vow. 

Loudly  they  spake  in  praise 
Of  that  fair  shrine  by  wondering  angels  borne, 
On  outstretch'd  pinions,  from  the  Holy  Land 


39 

To  glad  Dalmatia,  and  from  thence  transferred,         180 

Pitying  the  toil  of  weary  pilgrim  saints, 

To  happy  Italy.     Oft  they  describ'd 

The  cell  with  lingering  rainbow7  ever  bright. 

Which  hath  no  need  of  sun,  or  silver  moon, 

Or  glimmering  lamp,  and  that  blest  Lady's  form, 

The  glorious  Virgin,  whose  meek  brow  hath  pow'r 

To  cancel  sin  :  and  ever  as  they  spake 

Their  eye  with  mortified,  yet  curious  glance 

Fell  on  the  silent  warrior. — Soon  recedes 

The  crowded  mart,  and  fades  the  Gallic  coast          190 

In  the  faint  emerald  of  the  tideless  sea, 

While  the  refreshing  and  propitious  gales 

Swell  the  dilated  canvas.     But  the  day, 

That  sunk  in  smiles,  rose  not ;  so  dense  a  cloud 

Involv'd  her  in  its  canopy.     Low  blasts 

Moan'd  hollow  from  the  bosom  of  the  deep, 

And  fluttering  'mid  the  heavy,  humid  sails, 

The  sea-birds  shriek'd.     Around  the  feverish  moon 

Hung  a  wan  circle,  livid  as  the  spot 

Where  aspic  poison  creeps.     Then  as  the  wing       200 

Of  the  black  tempest  wav'd  'mid  mutinous  winds 

And  mighty  thunders,  while  the  reeling  bark 

Alternate  mounted  on  the  slippery  wave, 


40 

Or  roll'd  in  dark  abysses,  ye  might  see 
Those  frighted  pilgrims,  with  dishevell'd  locks 
Telling  their  beads,  and  calling  every  sainl 
Of  note  throughout  the  calendar  to  help 
Their  great  extremity. 

The  soldier  thought 
Of  that  Disciple,  valiant  in  his  faith, 
Who  on  the  mission  of  his  Master's  will  210 

Went  bound  to  Rome,  and  on  that  very  sea 
.Encounter'd  shipwreck.     He  remember'd  too 
The  arm  that  sav'd  him,  and  upon  that  prop 
Rested  his  waiting  eye,  while  the  dread  storm- 
Woke  its  third  day  of  gloom.     But  the  stern  band 
Bent  a  dark  scowling  glance  on  him  who  clasp'd 
No  rosary,  nor  in  such  awful  hour 
Ave  Maria  utter'd  ;  and  it  seem'd 
To  their  perverted  minds,  that  for  his  sin 
Such  evil  had  pursued  their  innocence.  220 

Pale  Superstition's  traitor  eye  reveal'd 
Her  darken'd  purpose,  ere  its  venom  sprang 
To  the  blanch'd  lip,  to  purchase  with  his  death 
Imagin'd  safety.     In  rash  narrow  minds 
The  blinding  motive  from  the  blasting  deed 
Hath  no  division.     As  the  mariners 


41 

Of  T*arshish  hurPd  the  recreant  prophet  forth, 

So  these  good  pilgrims  in  their  righteous  zeal 

To  save  themselves,  cast  out  the  stranger  youth 

Into  the  raging  element.     Proud  waves  230 

Broke  over  him,  but  with  impetuous  strength 

He  brav'd  their  fury.     Long  the  foaming  surge 

With  head  uprais'd,  and  firm,  undaunted  breast 

He  baffled  in  his  might.     Long  unappall'd 

His  spirit  view'd  the  purpose  of  his  life 

Still  unaccomplish'd,  and  believ'd  that  God 

Would  snatch  him  from  the  deep,  though  all  its  waves 

And  water-spouts  pass'd  over  him. 

But  day 

Sunk  on  her  couch,  and  Evening  quench'd  the  light, 
The  feeble  light,  that  from  the  billow's  crest  240 

Had  gleam'd  upon  the  wanderer.     Driven  on 
Like  broken  leaf  before  the  blast,  he  seemed 
A  thing  for  storms  to  sport  with,  or  the  child 
Of  the  dark  surge,  to  which  he  wildly  clung 
As  to  a  mother's  breast.     Alone  he  felt, 
As  if  in  wide  Creation,  nought  but  him 
Surviv'd.     Cold  languor  o'er  the  springs  of  life 
Crept  slowly,  'gainst  his  unresisting  form 
Rush'd  the  wild  wave,  and  his  despairing  ear 
4* 


42 

Heard  the  hoarse  voice  of  waters  and  of  winds,         250 

As  of  a  death-dirge.     Midnight  darkness  prest 

The  wrathful  deep,  and  drooping  he  resigns 

His  body  to  the  tomb  where  myriads  sleep, 

Waiting  that  trump  which  warns  the  startled  sea 

To  yield  her  dead.     Ah  !  when  the  arm  of  Man 

Resigns  its  power,  the  Omnipotence  of  God 

Is  nearest  in  deliverance.     A  rude  shock 

Convuls'd  the  victim's  frame,  as  if  it  broke 

The  Spirit's  casket  on  those  marble  rocks 

Where  slippery  sea-weed  binds  the  pearly  cells        260 

In  depths  unfathomable.     His  rent  ear 

Stunn'd  by  the  thundering  tide  resigns  its  pain 

To  welcome  silence,  and  his  stiffen'd  armsf 

Convulsive  clasp  the  sharp  and  rugged  rocks, 

While  his  dim  eye  and  fainting  bosom  hail 

The  house  of  Death  ;  for  thus  the  sufferer  deemed 

That  lonely  isle,  on  whose  deserted  bound 

God  had  prepar'd  his  refuge. 

When  he  thought 

Earth  with  her  bars  had  clos'd  around  his  pit 
Forever  ;  from  that  dungeon  of  despair  270 

Jehovah  had  redeem'd  him,  to  behold 
The  light  among  the  living.     There  he  lay, 


43 

Long  in  Exhaustion's  trance,  while  the  sp  ent  Strom 

Swept  by  on  drooping  pinion.     Then  look'd  forth 

From  her  deep  sable  arch,  the  timid  Moon, 

And  saw  the  slumberer  on  that  rocky  beach 

With  bloodless  cheek,  and  panting  breast  that  heav'd 

Heavily,  in  low  sobs  :  so  strong  did  Life 

Contend,  and  yet  so  bitterly  had  Death 

Urg'd  his  expected  victory.     Young  Morn  280 

From  her  bright  eye  such  genial  warmth  diffused 

That  up  the  sleeper  sprang,  his  humia  locks 

Still  dripping,  and  his  countenance  illum'd 

With  that  inert  expression,  which  displays 

Its  sceptic  glances,  when  the  muscles  live 

Before  the  intellect ;  while  the  lost  mind 

Coming  from  exile,  like  the  strong  man  arm'd 

Findeth  her  mansion  empty.     Thus,  perchance, 

Beam'd  the  wan  features  of  the  man  entomb'd, 

In  that  first  moment,  when  returning  life,  290 

Caught  from  the  touch  of  dead  Elisha's  bones, 

Pervaded  him  :  and  well  thy  pencil's  pow'r, 

Allston  !  hath  kindled  that  mysterious  gleam 

When  in  brief  struggle  the  terrestrial  strove 

With  the  celestial,  and  dull  matter  mov'd 

Ere  the  Creator's  breathing  spirit  gave 

Pure  Thought  its  resurrection. 


44 

Soon  with  eye 

No  longer  vacant,  though  still  unassur'd, 
He,  who  had  deem'd  his  mortal  conflict  o'er, 
Strove  with  bewilder'd  toil  to  wake  the  trace  300 

Of  shipwreck' d  Memory.     Almost  it  seem'd 
That  the  strange  fable  caught  from  Pagan  lore8 
And  interwoven  with  the  creed  of  Rome 
Were  true,  and  to  some  isolated  nook 
Of  Purgatory,  he  had  been  condemn'd, 
To  expiate  the  errors  which  had  stain'd 
His  former  being.     Well  this  spot  might  seem 
The  broken  isthmus  of  a  middle  state 
Remote  from  joys  of  either  world  ;  for  nought 
Like  cheering  verdure,  or  reviving  shade  310 

Of  pensile  bough  was  there.     No  cavern  deep, 
Like  that  of  Patmos,  where  the  lov'd  of  God 
Saw  holy  visions,  spread  a  cool  recess 
From  the  sun's  fervour ;  and  no  transient  gourd 
Like  that  which  shelter'd  Jonah's  head,  and  lulPd 
His  dark  repining,  rear'd  its  fragile  stem 
To  blossom  for  a  night.     But  the  lone  isle, 
One  naked  rock,  lash'd  by  th'  eternal  surge 
Appall'd  the  eye.     Not  with  such  poignant  woe 
The  solitary  glance  of  Selkirk  fell  320 


45 

On  lone  Fernandez  ;  there  were  bowers  of  shade, 
Green  earth,  fair  plants,  nutritious  roots  and  fruits 
To  cheer  existence,  there  the  bounding  goats 
Furnish'd  his  household  flock,  the  gentle  kids 
Lay  at  his  feet,  and  fondly  seem'd  to  claim 
Companionship. 

But  here  was  nought  to  break 

The  rayless  gloom  of  sceptred  solitude, 

Nor  foot  of  animal,  nor  chirp  of  bird, 

Nor  e'en  a  shrub,  on  which  might  hang  one  nest, 

For  the  poor  hermit's  heart  to  watch  and  love.         330 

Words  intermix'd  with  sighs  at  length  burst  forth, 

And  strange  their  utterance  seem'd,  where  human  tone 

Had  never  woke  before,  the  slumbering  cell 

Of  unborn  Echo 

"  Ah  !  is  this  sad  spot 

My  place  of  doom  ?  No  more  must  I  behold 
The  countenance  of  man  ?     Ne'er  hear  his  voice 
Answering  to  mine  ?     Methinks  the  serpent's  hiss 
Were  music  to  this  ever-dashing  wave. 
The  sight  of  the  most  loath'd  of  Nature's  works, 
Vile  worm,  or  slimy  snail,  or  swollen  toad,  340 

Were  joy.     Shall  withering  famine  terminate 
My  dateless  being  on  this  nameless  shore  ? 


46 

Then  what  avails  how  drear  the  solitude 

That  hangs  its  blackening  curtain  o'er  a  grave 

Which  none  may  visit  ?     A  dissever'd  link 

From  vast  Creation's  chain,  no  pitying  voice 

Of  kindred  or  of  friend  shall  e'er  inquire 

Whose  bones  lie  bleaching  on  this  blasted  bourne 

Of  desolation.     Hence  !  away  ye  hopes, 

Pictur'd  in  childhood,  treasur'd  in  gay  youth,  350 

Vain,  airy  bubbles !  See,  the  lofty  plans 

Of  proud  Ambition,  luring  me  to  join 

My  name  with  heroes,  see  the  glorious  scroll 

Unroll'd  by  Fancy,  shrivel  to  the  seal 

Of  blank  Oblivion." 

With  such  groans,  perchance, 
Though  stung  to  deeper  agony,  complain'd 
The  fugitive  of  Elba,  from  whose  head 
The  crown  had  fall'n.     His  prison  isle  he  pac'd 
With  frantic  step,  and  o'er  the  sounding  beach 
Roving  like  maniac,  tax'd  with  madd'ning  curse      360 
And  ceaseless  question,  the  unresting  wave. 
Yet  was  he  not  alone,  for  round  him  throng'd 
Thin  spectral  shapes  from  Lodi's  bloody  field, 
From  Jena,  Jaffa,  Borodino's  bound, 
Dread  Austerlitz,  Marengo,  Moscow's  wreck.- 


47 

From  countless  scenes  they  rose,  and  flitting  sought 
To  gaze  on  their  destroyer.     Conscience  shrunk 
At  solitude  so  populous,  and  Pride, 
Which  quell'd  Remorse,  wept  at  Ambition's  goad, 
Vexing,  like  him  of  Macedon,  to  find  370 

Bounds  to  its  conquest. 

Would  ye  ask  what  throng'd 
The  mental  temple,  when  in  frowns  he  rov'd 
Listning  indignant  to  the  Atlantic  roar 
On  lone  St.  Helena  ?     Did  Memory's  torch 
Light  up  his  past  career,  o'er  blasted  earth, 
And  wasted  being,  subjugated  realms 
And  "  seas  of  flame  ;"9— •  or  Pity  bear  the  wail 
Of  childless  parent,  and  of  sireless  babe  ? 
Did  pale  Remorse,  lifting  her  serpent  scourge, 
Come  with  the  manes  of  the  mighty  dead  380 

Who  fell  by  treachery  ?     Did  despair  announce 
The  fearful  miseries  of  the  falsely  great  ? 
Or  sad  Contrition  wake  the  pungent  tear 

That  cleanses  guilt? 

Peace  !  for  his  doom  is  seal'd. 
Man  may  not  scan  the  conflict  of  the  soul 
When  the  chill  lip  drinks  the  last  bitter  drop 
Of  life's  exhausted  cup.     Man  may  not  pass 


48 

Verdict  upon  the  heart,  which  the  High  Judge 
Alone  explores.     Nor  should  he  rashly  hurl 
His  condemnations  forth,  since  he,  himself 
With  all  his  fancied,  all  his  just  deserts, 
Is  but  an  erring,  trembling  candidate 
For  his  Creator's  mercy. 

Turn  we  now 

To  that  lone  exile  on  yon  islet  dark, 
Who  in  the  breathless  struggle  where  fair  Hope 
Too  weak  for  contest,  copes  with  pallid  Fear, 
Descries  a  sail.     Advancing  where  the  rock 
Strikes  its  sharp  bastion  farthest  in  the  main, 
His  hand  he  waves  in  agony,  and  wastes 
The  remnant  of  his  voice.     Ah,  see!  a  boat 
Approaches  him.     Already  he  perceives 
The  quick  dash  of  the  oar,  and  the  light  foam 
Rippling  around  its  prow.     Holy  that  sight, 
As  the  ark's  casement  to  the  trembling  Dove 
Whose  weary  pinion  o'er  the  shoreless  waste 
Droop'd  as  in  death.     Not  once  the  exile  thought 
If  friend  or  foe  approach  him,  the  proud  Turk, 
Or  wily  Arab,  or  brute  Algerine, 
All  the  stern  ills  that  man  inflicts  on  man, 
Slavery,  or  galley-chain,  or  ceaseless  toil 


49 

Seem'd  in  that  hour  of  wild  emotion,  light 

To  everduring  loneliness.     The  vohe 

Of  Man  once  more  accosts  him,  a  kind  arm 

Supports  his  feeble  stepflHMfe.  \e  boat 

^nse^ensi! 
And  scale  the  vessel's  side,  wrme  fainting,  pale, 

And  speechless,  he  admits  the  tide  of  joy 
To  whelm  his  soul.     Stretch'd  on  the  ready  couch, 
Reviv'd  with  welcome  cordials  and  the  tone 
Of  sympathy,  the  sufferer's  heart  expands 
In  boundless  gratitude,  to  that  blest  Pow'r,  420 

Who  snatch'd  him  from  his  dungeon  ;  while  the  bands 
Of  courteous  France,  who  listened  to  his  tale, 
Exulting,  that  their  gallant  ship  had  sav'd 
A  fellow-creature,  merg'd  in  that  pure  joy 
The  light  aversion  which  their  native  coast 
And  sea-girt  Albion  cherish.     Long  they  cruis'd 
O'er  the  untroubled  waters,  mark'd  the  coast 
Of  sultry  Afric,  caught  the  fragrant  gales 
That  fan  Sicilian  vineyards,  cross'd  the  tide 
Of  the  rough  Adriatic,  steer' d  with  care  430 

Amid  Ionian  quicksands,  and  beheld 
The  jEgean  wave  with  sprinkled  lustre  bright 
Of  emerald  islets,  where  the  classic  Muse 
Delights  to  linger.     There  old  Tenedos 
5 


60 

Frown'd  upon  ruin'd  Ilion  ;  Lemnos  hush'd 

Her  Cyclopean  forg3  ;  while  Lesbian  heights 

Still  seem'd  to  ech )  to  Alcaeus's  harp, 

And  Sappho's  fond  '  inhere  Samos  spread 

Her  beauteous  harbours  trUr  tne  violent  wave, 

While  in  perspective  soft,  her  green  fields  gleam' d    440 

In  semi-annual  harvest,10  rich  with  tints 

Of  purple  light ;  the  clustering  Cyclades 

Girt  in  their  rocky  zone  the  Delphic  isle 

No  more  oracular,  where  glowing  clouds 

Of  golden  lustre,  ting'd  with  crimson  dies, 

Canopy  pure  Parnassus. 

Rosy  Rhodes,1 1 

No  longer  by  its  proud  Colossus  mark'd 

Stretch'd  its  triangular  scale,  as  if  to  catch 

Those  golden  show'rs12  which  testified  the  love 

Of  ardent  Phoebus ;   while  the  Cretan  vales  450 

Cloth'd  with  their  fruitage  fair  the  awful  base 

Of  that  stern  mountain,  boastful  of  the  birth 

Of  Jove  the  Thunderer. 

Towards  the  setting  Sun 

Their  course  they  bend,  when,  ploughing  o'er  the  deep 
Her  transverse  path  with  heavy  laden  keel, 
A  ship  they  spy,  whose  waving  colours  spoke 


ol 

Of  haughty  Venice.     Hasting  they  prepare 

For  naval  combat.     Decks  are  clear'd,  light  sails 

Furl'd,  lest  their  pla^^g|^^)nness  impede 

Decisive  action,  while  those  engines  dire  4G0 

Which  flash  destruction  o'er  the  echoing  wave, 

i 
Unlash'd  are  levell'd,  and  from  their  deep  vents 

The  tompions  drawn.     Inspir'd  with   warlike  joy 

The  soul  of  Smith  rush'd  to  his  eagle  eye, 

Darting  unwonted  lightnings.     Every  spot 

He  seem'd  to  traverse  ;  now,  in  grave  debate 

Consulting  with  the  Master,  how  to  pour 

With  best  effect  their  battery  on  the  foe  ; 

Now,  gliding  o'er  the  deck  with  watchful  glance 

Of  keen  inspection  ;  now,  into  the  souls  470 

Of  wondering  Frenchmen  pouring  that  proud  zeal 

Which  nerves  a  British  tar.     Thus  the  bold  king, 

Harry  of  Mon mouth,  cheer'd  his  doubting  troops 

For  Agincourt's  dread  field  ;  with  his  gay  smile 

Inspiring  courage,  brightening  the  wan  brow 

Of  Apprehension,  while  his  valorous  heart 

Impatient  chode  the  interrupting  night 

Which  "  like  a  foul  and  ugly  witch  did  limp 

So  lazily  away."     Short  space  was  here 

In  this  wild  contest  on  the  briny  plain  480 


For  courtesy  or  signal  of  attack : 
The  volleying  broadsides  deal  Destruction's  blast, 
Life  fled  in  purple  streamsj^^till  the  wrath 
Of  Man  subsided  not.J  Fhe  shivering  masts. 
And  sides  transpierc'd,  witness  in  fearful  wounds 
The  strife  of  human  passions,  when  they  war 
And  yield  not. 

From  the  Gallic  ship,  a  band 
Forth  sally,  bright  their  boarding  axes  shine 
Through  sable  wreaths  of  smoke,  while  they  essay 
With  vigorous  action  to  ascend  the  deck  490 

Of  the  Venetian.     Clamorous  blows  resound 
And  shouts  outrageous,  till  the  invaders,  hurl'd 
Back  from  their  slippery  footing,  darkly  plunge 
Beneath  the  redd'ning  element.     Yet  see  ! 
Another  band,  unaw'd  by  Danger's  front, 
Dare  the  same  fate,  with  desperate  ardour  fir'd, 
And  o'er  the  bowsprit  rushing  to  the  deck, 
Wade  through  their  comrade's  blood. 

How  can  I  paint 

The  features  of  that  scene  ?     My  pencil  shrinks 
From  dies  so  deep  !     Oh  !  'twas  a  fearful  sight         500 
To  souls  who  love  not  carnage,  to  behold 
God's  image  in  the  human  form  so  marr'd, 


63 

And  his  blest  work  defac'd.     The  deed  was  done, 
The  hoarse,  terrific  din  of  battle  o'er, 
But  many  a  gallant  man,  whose  warm  lip  pour'd 
Impetuous  words  to  urge  the  'contest  on, 
Saw  not  the  victory,  nor  heard  the  shout 
When  Venice  struck  to  France.     O'er  the  smooth  wave 
Her  trackless  course  the  victor  ship  pursued ; 
Not  quite  unscath'd  5  but,  as  the  knight,  return'd      510 
From  tournament,  heeds  not  his  batter'd  helm, 
And  sever'd  cuirass,  nor  the  puny  wounds 
That  goad  his  side,  since  ever  in  his  mind 
The  vivid  image  of  his  unhors'd  foe 
Banishes  pain  and  loss.     The  exulting  crew 
Boastful  in  garrulous  joy,  incessant  trac'd 
Their  chart  of  conquest,  emulous  to  meet 
A  second  enemy.     But  the  lone  youth, 
Whose  changeful  fortunes  we  pursue,  oft  sigh'd 
For  sweet  release  from  durance  on  the  wave,  520 

And  like  a  landsman  pin'd,  whene'er  he  thought 
Of  the  pure  verdure,  and  salubrious  breeze, 
And  busy  haunts,  where  answering  voices  blend 
In  cheering  echo.     Him  at  lenght  they  sent, 
In  feeble  boat  to  that  delightful  shore 
Which  spread  a  refuge  for  the  Hero's  toil, 
5* 


54 

Who  from  Troy's  flame,  wild  ocean's  adverse  surg& 
And  Juno's  harsh  inexorable  hate 
Scap'd  through  long  wanderings. 

Glad  th'  enfranchis'd  youth 

Mark'd  the  rough  line  of  that  peninsular  coast,         530 
Enraptur'd  revell'd  in  the  firm  support 
Of  Earth,  his  mother,  and  once  more  beheld 
Her  brilliant  garments,  and  alluring  fruits, 
With  joy  unutterable.     Soon  his  course 
In  eager  speed  toward  Rome's  imperial  seat 
He  pointed ;  for  in  boyhood's  brightest  hour 
Thither,  on  Fancy's  pinion,  had  he  flown 
To  search  and  question  Cesar's  sepulchre  : 
And  thither  now,  half  doubting,  as  if  dreams 
Involv'd  him  in  their  tissue,  he  arriv'd.  54® 

With  reverence  gaz'd  he  on  the  Queen  of  earth, 
Who  in  the  mouldering  of  her  gorgeous  robes, 
And  ancient  diadem,  still  rose  in  pomp 
Of  dread  magnificence.     His  rapt  eye  saw 
In  warrior  vision,  when  with  sceptred  pride. 
Seated  upon  her  seven-hilFd  throne,  she  cast 
The  rays  of  her  dominion  on  the  wings 
Of  the  unresting  Sun,  and  bade  them  reach 
All  realms  that  saw  his  light.     With  pausing  step 


55 

Alone  he  wander'd,  'mid  those  mighty  wrecks          560 
Which  Man  had  consecrated,  but  old  Time 
Respected  not,  and  bade  the  unsightly  weed 
And  slimy  snail  deface.     Anon  he  mark'd 
Strong  massy  fabricks,  on  whose  fronts  sublime 
Dwelt  hoar  Antiquity,  ruling  the  wrath 
And  spoil  of  ages.     There  unnumber'd  fanes 
Tower' d  in  the  gracefulness  of  modern  skill, 
Where  cluster'd  columns  rear'd  their  cornice  fair, 
And  fretted  architrave,  th'  Ionic  chaste, 
Time-honour'd  Doric,  or  Corinthian  rich,  560 

Or  simple  Tuscan.     The  admiring  youth 
Mark'd  with  a  gaze  intense  of  wondering  awe 
Vespasian's  Coliseum,  where,  the  Goth13 
Who  led  his  barbarous  legions  to  the  spoil 
Of  the  despis'd  magnificence  of  Rome, 

Stood  in  amazement 

That  Ellipsis  vast 

Reveal'd  the  hand  of  Titus,  who  resum'd 
The  work  his  dying  sire  left  unfulfilPd. 
From  those  arcades,  those  pillars  that  embrace 
Within  their  pond'rous  and  wide-stretching  grasp     570 
That  spacious  amphitheatre,  erst  rose, 
As  from  the  Egyptian  house  of  bondage,  sighs 


56 

Of  captive  Israel,  labouring  and  oppref  s'd ; 

Though  no  deliverer,  call'd  by  Heaven,  came  forth 

From  his  rush  cradle  on  the  turbid  stream 

To  break  their  yoke.     Still  might  the  emrecall 

Through  mist  of  gathering  ages,  through  the  wreck 

Of  Devastation's  wantonness,14  that  spot 

Where  the  pavilion,  with  its  purple  pomp,15 

And  proud,  imperial  blazonry,  enshrin'd  580 

The  dignity  of  Rome  ;  still  might  it  mark 

The  Cunei,16  dividing  with  strict  care 

Patrician  from  Plebeian,  even  in  sports 

Whose  baseness  levell'd  all  to  the  same  rank 

Of  degradation,  weighing  jealously 

Each  vain  distinction  ;  there  might  still  be  trac'd 

The  radiatory  passages,  where  throng'd 

Crown'd  Emperors,  and  savage  beasts,  and  men 

Abject  as  they  ;  and  there  stood  gaping  wide 

Those  Vomitories,17  whence  the  noisy  croud  590 

Issu'd  abrupt.     Swept  by  winds  of  Heaven 

Was  that  vast  structure,  open  to  the  wrath 

Of  raging  elements ;  no  more  was  rear'd 

The  spreading  Velum's1 8  gorgeous  canopy 

To  shelter  from  the  solar  beam,  or  storm 

Those  pitiless  throngs,  deep  gazing  on  the  scenes 


i 


i 

57 


'Of  inhumanity.     There,  with  vigorous  arm 
And  rigid  muscles,  nerv'd  to  utmost  strength 
By  uncomplaining  Agony,  wild  wrath, 
Undaunted  courage,  or  intense  despair,  600 

Fought  the  stern  Gladiators  :l  9  stung  to  rage, 
The  lordly  Lion,  the  mad  Elephant, 
The  foaming  Tyger,  the  Hyena  fierce, 
Baffled  the  hunter's  skill,  or  madly  rush'd 
Upon  his  spear,  champing  with  bloody  jaws 
The  murderous  weapon.     And  alas  !  how  oft 
Drank  that  Arena's  dust  the  peaceful  tide 
Flowing  from  Christian  veins,  when  strong  in  faith 
Those  holy  victims,  pouring  forth  pure  pray'rs 
For  persecuting  foes,  were  given  a  prey  610 

To  monster's  teeth. 

There  thou  didst  yield  thy  breath. 
Ignatius,  mitred  prelate  of  that  church, 
Which  first20  upon  its  sacred  banner  bore 
The  name  of  Christ.     Full  on  thy  rapt  ear  pour'd 
The  melody  of  heaven,31  where  the  blest  choir 
With  harp  and  voice,  in  high  alternate  swell 
Hymn'd  the  Eternal,  till  thy  tranced  soul 
Wrapt  in  extatic  vision,  scorn'd  the  bounds 
Of  Earth's  low  confine.     But  a  martyr's  doom 


58 

Awaited  thy  decline  ;  and  thou  didst  meet  620 

Its  pangs,  rejoicing  that  thy  soul  should  haste 

To  its  reward,  while  high  devotion's  pray'r 

Ascended  for  the  parricides  who  rent 

Thy  feeble  span.     M  ethinks  the  Lions  pause 

In  their  career.     Did  thine  uplifted  eye 

Intently  fix'd  on  Heaven  imbibe  new  beams 

Of  awful  lustre,  till  brute  Instinct  shrank 

To  mar  that  kneeling  form,  and  clot  with  blood 

Those  silver  locks  ? 

Yet  there  was  Beauty's  eye, 

Gazing  unmov'd  upon  the  ghastly  wound,  630 

And  gasping  bosom ;  hearts,  which  should  have  been 
At  every  scene  of  woe,  as  liquid  balm 
Distill'd  in  Pity's  heavenly  dew,  grew  hard, 
Grew  obdurate  as  the  flame-temper'd  steel, 
Till  female  softness  turn'd  her  exile  foot 

From  pagan  Rome 

Sick'ning  at  thoughts  like  these 
The  youth  with  fond  enthusiasm  rush'd  to  seek 
Trajan's  fair  victor  column,  where  it  rear'd 
Its  tow'ring  shaft,  pure  as  the  snows  that  crown 
The  Alpine  heights.     Its  pedestal  display'd  640 

Four  birds  of  Jove,  depending  from  whose  beaks 


59 

In  rich  luxuriance  flovv'd  the  laurel  wreath, 

And  ah !  so  well  those  polish'd  leaflets  twin'd 

Their  slender  fibres,  with  so  light  a  grace 

Ruffled  the  Eaglets'  plumage,  that  the  art 

Of  bold  Apollodorus  seem'd  to  have  taught 

The  cold  and  steadfast  marble  how  to  vie 

With  nature's  life  and  beauty.     There  the  youth 

Knelt  in  low  reverence,  while  in  ardent  tone 

Burst  forth  his  homage  from  unconscious  lips —        650 

"  Awful  and  glorious  Man  !  at  whose  dread  name 

Trembled  far  distant  realms,  while  haughty  Rome 

Wove  it  with  stars  into  her  diadem, 

Gem  of  her  pride,  and  bond  of  loyalty. 

Subjected  Dacia  felt  thy  vengeful  sword, 

Assyria  was  thy  suppliant,  the  arm'd  throngs 

Of  wide  Armenia,  the  infuriate  hordes 

From  Mesopotamian  mountains,  and  the  tribes 

Barbarous  and  rude,  from  where  the  Euxine  roars 

To  the  vex'd  Caspian,  bent  with  vassal  awe  660 

Th'  imploring  glance  on  thee.     Thy  curb  controul'd2  2 

The  tossing  Danube,  and  with  force  sublime 

Treading  the  trackless  deep,  thy  lofty  prow 

First  to  old  Ocean's  angry  billows  taught 

Rome's  will  to  reign." 


60 

Ling'ring  o'er  Trajan's  fame 
In  contemplation  deep,  the  abstracted  youth 
Hung  with  a  soldier's  rapture  ;  then  with  eye 
Dazzled  and  dimm'd  by  countless  monuments 
That  mark  the  lost  illustrious,  he  explor'd 
The  arch  of  Titus,23  rich  with  victories  670 

O'er  humbled  Judah.     There  with  sinuous  trace 
O'er  the  fair  sculpture,  rapid  Jordan  rov'd, 
While  on  its  banks  the  weeping  captives  throng'd, 
With  heads  declin'd.     And  there  were  sacred  spoils 
Scatter'd  in  careless  triumph,  the  high  trump 
Whose  silver  sound  warn'd  to  the  Jubilee, 
The  golden  Candlestick,  whose  wreathed  branch 
Fed  with  pure  oil,  shed  o'er  the  sanctuary 
Unsullied  light,  the  table  consecrate 
To  the  shew-bread,  which  none  but  holy  hands        680 
Might  touch  unsinning,  the  mysterious  ark, 
The  fearful  tables  of  the  Eternal  Law, 
The  sacrificial  altar,  ah  !  what  pangs 
Wrung  thee,  deserted  Zion,  when  these  spoils 
Were  won  by  Rome.     Thy  broken,  ruin'd  towers, 
Thy  reeking  stones,  thy  city  furrow'd  deep 
By  Desolation's  ploughshare,  the  dire  cross, 
Stern  sword,  gaunt  Famine,  sated  with  thy  sons, 


61 

And  that  majestic,  dedicated  dome, 

The  temple  of  Jehovah,  given  to  feed  690 

The  Gentile  flame,  and  thy  weak  remnant  made 

A  hissing,  an  astonishment,  a  taunt 

To  every  nation  ;  how  these  countless  woes, 

Immeasurable  as  th'  unfathom'd  sea, 

Announce  thy  guilt,  and  verify  the  truth 

Of  HIM  who  cannot  err ;  and  will  they  not. 

Oh  !  thou  afflicted,  tempest-tost,  despis'd 

And  reft  of  comfort,  will  they  not  at  length 

Ope  thy  blind  eye  to  Him,  whom  thou  didst  pierce 

And  crucify,  that  thou  might'st  mourn  and  live  ?         700 

Who  with  a  traveller's  eye  can  search  the  bounds 
Of  Rome,  nor  pause  to  muse  upon  the  tomb 
Of  Adrian,  asking  the  insensate  winds, 
How  they  can  winnow  as  unhallow'd  dust 
Its  consecrated  glory  ?     Who  can  shun 
To  gaze  upon  the  lofty  column  rear'd 
To  pious  Antoninus,  by  the  han.d 
Of  good  Aurelius,  sharer  of  his  fame 
Virtue  and  dignity,  who  early  wise24 
Learnt  with  a  philosophic  sway  to  quell  710 

The  passions'  mutiny.     Ev'n  hoary  Time 
Reveres  that  fabric,  and  commands  the  years 
6 


62 

That  in  their  revolution  blindly  wield 

Destruction's  besom,  and  exulting  stamp 

Oblivion's  seal,  to  spare  that  marble  spire 

Its  simple  beauty,  nor  to  rend  the  pile 

Which  bears  the  second  IN  u ma's  spotless  fame. 

Half  sunk  in  Earth,  the  wanderer  trac'd  his  arch 

Who  on  fair  Albion's  isle  resign'd  his  breath, 

Septimius  Severus.  720 

Dark  with  throngs 

Of  flying  Parthians,  was  its  scroll  sublime; 

But  gathering  ages,  dense  with  mouldering  dust, 

Obscur'd  the  Hero's  emblem,  with  keen  touch 

Corroding  what  the  impotence  of  Man 

Pronounc'd  immortal.     With  a  statelier  front, 

Just  where  the  dark  base  of  the  Caelian  Mount 

Confronts  the  Palatine,  tower'd  the  white  arch 

Of  the  blest  Christian  Emperor,  Constantine,25 

Who  bade  the  sword  of  persecution  cease 

To  vex  the  bleeding  church.     There  paus'd  the  youth, 

Reviewing  the  recorded  tints  that  glow'd  731 

On  memory's  tablet ;  for  his  soul  was  proud 

To  hold  communion  with  the  awful  shades 

Of  Emperors,  and  warriors,  and  stern  Chiefs 

Who  rul'd  the  rage  of  battle.     With  less  jov 


63 

Gaz'd  he  upon  the  fountains,  sumptuous  squares, 

Rich  palaces,  majestic  obelisks  ; 

Beheld  the  vaunted  Vatican  display 

Its  pomp  of  painting,  and  time-honour'd  scrolls 

Innumerable  ;  and  even  with  slighter  touch  740 

Of  strong  emotion,  mark'd  that  Basilick 

Rising  in  deep  and  dread  magnificence, 

Beneath  whose  lofty  dome  pale  Awe  turns  cold, 

Offering  a  while,  her  trembling  consciousness 

Upon  Devotion's  altar. 

Yet  not  long 

Might  spirit  so  active  be  content  to  dwell 
Amid  the  tombs  and  mouldering  monuments 
Of  buried  glory.     The  hoarse  blast  of  War 
Kindling  its  ardour  to  the  thrill  of  Joy, 
Warn'd  it  away.  750 

.  To  throng' d  Vienna's  bound 
The  soldier  went,  for  there  were  martial  sounds, 
Mustering  of  mighty  men,  shrill  trumpets'  blast, 
Hoarse  clang  of  armour,  neigh  of  prancing  steed, 
Where  brave  Count  Meldrich  gallantly  reviewed 
His  gather'd  legions.     Strongly  rein  fore' d 
By  Transylvania's  Duke,  their  blended  aim 
Against  the  Turk  was  destin'd,  he  who  holds 


64 

In  cruel  thraldom,  those  delightful  plains 

Where  ancient  Greece  her  band  illustrious  rear'd 

Of  heroes  and  of  sages.  760 

There  thy  sword 

Still  glitters,  Ypsilante  ! — May  it  deal 
To  the  oppressor,  justice,  like  the  brand 
Of  mighty  Scanderberg  !2e   he  who  beheld 
The  sad  Albanian  weeping  in  his  hut, 
Saw  from  his  famish'd  babes  the  morsel  torn 
By  stern  rapacity,  and  nerv'd  his  arm 
For  righteous  vengeance.     Prince  !  Be  Him  thy  guide 
Who  crown'd  with  victory  Judah's  prayerful  King, 
When  the  swarth  Ethiops,  and  fierce  Lubims  came 
Like  lions,  in  their  insolence  to  wreck  707 

The  shepherd's  fold.     Oh  !  is  there  not  a  time 
In  His  eternal  counsels,  who  doth  break 
The  Tyrant's  yoke,  when  the  sword-planted  faitli 
Of  Mecca's  dark  impostor  from  its  root 
Shall  perish  ?     when  the  desolating  rod 
Of  the  vile  Painim,  shall  no  longer  bruise 
Earth's  fairest  climes  ?     Behold  it  darkly  press 
The  realm  belov'd  of  Science,  where  her  eye, 
First  waking  from  its  cradle  slumbers,  scann'd 
A  globe  benighted  ;  see  it  crush  the  race  780 


65 

Whom  Xerxes  might  not  conquer,  where  the  arts 

Like  quenchless  stars,  their  constellation  wreath'd 

Round  laurelFd  Liberty  :  and  lo  !  it  threats 

The  Holy  Land,  like  that  portentous  star 

In  the  red  skies  o'er  Zion's  'leagur'd  height, 

When  Rome's  dire  Eagles  hasted  to  their  meat. 

It  subjugates  that  land,  once  bright  illum'd 

By  blest  Salvation's  day-star,  by  the  eye 

Of  priests  and  prophets,  by  the  glowing  wings 

Of  angel  visitants,  by  the  dread  robe  790 

Of  the  Eternal :  hallow'd  by  the  steps 

Of  Him  of  Nazareth,  as  forth  he  went 

Seeking  the  lost,  where  palm-crown'd  Olivet 

Responded  in  low  murmurs  to  his  sigh 

Of  midnight  pray'r,  where  sad  Gethsemane 

Receiv'd  affrighted  on  her  humid  soil 

The  dews  of  agony,  and  Calvary 

Bowing  beneath  the  awful  wrath  of  Heaven, 

Shook  to  her  inmost  centre,  at  the  voice 

"  Father  !  forgive  !"  600 

But  now  the  kindling  war 
Assum'd  a  front  of  horrour.     Siege  on  siege 
Baffled  the  Turk's  endurance,  and  confirm'd 
The  Christian  courage.     Fortified  in  vain, 

6* 


66 

Alba-Regalis,27  and  Olumpagh  fell, 

Shaming  the  Moslem.     Mid  the  warrior  band> 

Who  by  undaunted  bravery,  or  skill 

In  varying  stratagem,  serv'd  to  sustain 

The  rising  fortunes  of  the  Christian  arms 

Smith  stood  conspicuous,  while  around  his  brow 

The  hard  won  laurels  cluster'd.  810 

-Once,  a  siege 

Protracted  long,  inflated  with  base  pride 

The  renegado  garrison.     Then  forth 

From  those  invested  walls,  there  proudly  came 

A  haughty  champion,  as  in  older  time 

Philistia  sent  her  giant  to  defy 

The  host  of  Israel.     With  insulting  taunt 

Rang  his  loud  challenge  ;  and  amid  the  swords 

That  from  their  scabbards  started  to  avenge 

The  holy  cross  aspers'd,  the  boon  was  given 

To  the  exulting  youth,  whose  fate  we  trace.  820 

The  contest  came,  and  proudly  on  his  lance 

Bears  he  his  country's  honour.     From  the  height 

Of  giddy  rampart,  thousand  sunny  eyes 

Of  ardent  beauty,  thousand  helmed  brows 

Bend  anxious  o'er  th'  arena. 


67 

Rang'd  around 

Upon  the  brow  of  an  opposing  hill 
In  moony  crescent  stretch'd  the  hands  of  Christ, 
While  many  a  silent,  interceding  pray'r 
Invokes  the  God  of  battles.     The  bold  youth, 
Whose  burnish'd  armour  glitter'd  in  the  ray  830 

Of  the  resplendent  Sun,  while  sable  plumes 
Like  a  dark  cloud  wav'd  o'er  his  polish'd  helm, 
A  second  Hector  seem'd.     Strongly  he  reins 
His  fiery  courser,  and  with  spear  in  rest 
Awaits  his  foe.     He  comes,  and  furious  wrath, 
Mingled  with  scorn,  inspires  him,  as  he  hurls 
His  dark  defiance. 

The  loud  trumpet  blast 

Breathes  the  appointed  signal.     They  advance, 
They  meet  as  lightning,  and  the  unhors'd  Turk 
Rolls  in  his  hearts-blood.  From  the  ramparts  rose    840 
\  howl  of  horrour  when  that  champion  fell, 
As  the  hoarse  watch-dog,  in  his  vigil  drear, 
Bays  the  cold  moon.     But  hast'ning  to  the  field 
Another  foe  appears.     Towering  and  strong, 
Like  mighty  Ajax ;  his  red  eye-ball  dealt 
Bitter  derision,  as  Goliah  scowl'd 
Upon  the  stripling  David.     Strictly  curb'd 


68 

His  mighty  war-horse,  with  indignant  rage, 

Foams  at  restraint,  ejects  the  wreathed  smoke 

From  his  spread  nostril,  and  with  armed  hoof          850 

Spurns  the  rent  ground.     They  meet  in  fatal  shock, 

Their  steeds  recoil !  God  nerves  the  Christian's  arm, 

And  on  the  earth  the  mail'd  Colossus  lay 

Gnashing  his  teeth  in  death.     The  victor  rode 

Unhurt  the  dread  arena  :  but,  behold  ! 

A  third  appears.     Less  furious  than  the  last, 

Yet  more  tremendous  than  the  first,  he  rears 

His  front  of  hatred,  while  his  measur'd  step 

Wary  he  rules,  watchful,  but  yet  serene 

As  cautious  Fabius.     Almost  it  might  seem  860 

As  if  those  fallen  foes,  dissatisfied 

To  die  but  once,  had  risen,  and  blent  in  him 

Their  varying  lineaments,  pleas'd  to  create 

A  worse  antagonist.     On  either  side 

Hung  tremulous  expectancy,  o'er  those 

Who  watch'd  the  combat. — 

Thus  stood  ancient  Rome, 
And  haughty  Alba,  with  such  gaze  intense, 
Breathless,  and  leaning  on  th'  ensanguia'd  spear, 
When  rose  the  last  Horatius,  in  the  blood 
Of  his  two  weltering  brothers,  to  confront  870 

The  twin  Curiatii. — 


69 

Gallantly  they  met 

At  word  of  herald,  but  with  careful  eye 
Adjusting  the  career,  and  with  firm  hand 
Guiding  the  spear- shock.     Lo  !  the  Turkish  steed 
Plunges  without  his  rider,  and  a  groan 
Bursts  from  the  city's  height,  responded  long 
In  fitful  shrillness,  like  the  female  wail 
Over  some  favourite  knight,  whom  minstrels  style 
The  flower  of  chivalry.     The  deed  was  done. 
The  prize  of  conquest  gain'd.     No  other  foe  880 

Again  would  dare  that  fatal  tournament, 
Nor  e'en  the  insatiate  soul  of  Mahomet 
Could  longer  parley.     Loud  the  shrill-ton'd  trump 
In  pomp  of  chivalry  announc'd  the  youth 
Thrice  victor  ;  tears  and  acclamations  greet 
His  glad  return,  while  honours  and  rewards2  8 
Whelm  him  in  rich  profusion.     Ah  !  but  Man, 
Brief  Man,  when  in  the  spring-tide  of  his  Fame, 
Oft  sees  the  ebbing  flood  forsake  those  sands 
Where  Joy  had  spread  her  sail  ;  oft  hears  the  blast  890 
Awake  against  his  glory,  and  disperse 
The  light  ephemeron.     From  heaps  of  slain, 
In  dark,  disastrous  hour  the  youth  is  drawn,29 
Half  lifeless,  pierc'd  with  wounds,  while  foeman's  care 


70 

Solicits  his  revival,  and  preserves 
Existence,  reft  of  Liberty. 

At  length 

Restored,  he  tastes  of  Slavery's  bitter  dregs, 
And  with  revolting  heart  beholds  the  domes 
Of  high  Constantinople,  thither  sent 
A  Bashaw's  present  to  his  lady  love,  900 

The  fair  Charitza.     He  with  patient  care, 
Wrought  in  her  beauteous  garden,  propp'd  the  trees 
Laden  with  fruit,  twirTd  the  luxuriant  vines 
Round  fairy  arches,  cheerM  the  imprison'd  birds, 
Or  bore  fresh  water  to  the  thirsty  flowers. 
Him,  at  his  toil,  the  maiden  oft  observ'd 
From  her  high  lattice,  where  the  fragrant  gale 
Murmur'd  through  painted  vases  ;  oft  admir'd 
His  noble  mien,  and  manly,  graceful  form, 
With  partial  eye.     And  often  would  she  muse  910 

And  wonder,  if  in  his  dear  native  land, 
A  mother  he  had  left,  a  sister  fond, 
To  weep  for  him,  or  if  a  stronger  tie 
Binding  the  heart-strings,  forc'd  some  maid  to  pine 
At  his  long  absence.     Then  her  plaintive  lute 
With  thrilling  softness  she  would  touch,  and  wake 
Some  simple  strain  of  captive  youth,  who  won3 


71 

His  Lady's  heart,  and  how  the  lovers  fled 

A  father's  frown,  to  some  green  isle  of  rest 

Gay  with  perennial  roses.     Then  her  glance  920 

Would  rest  upon  the  youth,  whose  features  beam'd 

With  lustre,  which  the  cloud  of  slavery 

Strove  vainly  to  eclipse,  and  she  would  sigh 

She  knew  not  wherefore  ;  then  indignant,  wish 

That  he  were  not  a  Christian,  and  retire, 

Perchance,  to  dream  of  him. 

But  other  bonds 

Than  those  of  dalliance,  were  ordain'd  to  bind 
His  lofty  soul.     Driv'n  from  the  beauteous  shades36 
Where  soft  Charitza  render'd  durance  light, 
He  bends  a  vassal  to  the  lordly  sway  930 

Of  her  stern  brother.     Here  he  learnt  the  toils 
That  wait  the  slave  ;  contemptuous,  bitter  Scorn, 
Unceasing  Labour,  and  the  gloomy  waste 
Of  rifled  Hope.     Oppression's  galling  chain 
Wrought  no  despair,  but  urged  th'  indignant  soul 
To  vengeful  madness.     When  the  tyrant's  wrath 
Heap'd  insolence  with  outrage,  his  bold  hand 
Aveng'd  it  in  his  blood,31  as  Moses'  zeal 
Slew  mocking  Egypt's  supercilious  son, 
And  hid  him  in  the  sand.     The  flying  youth,  940 


72 

An  apprehensive  fugitive,  the  prey 

Of  meagre  Famine,  rov'd  Circassian  wilds, 

Nor  dar'd  ev'n  with  a  trembling  voice  to  hail 

His  blood-bought  Liberty,  till  in  the  walls 

Of  Russia's  frontier,  he  receiv'd  the  hand 

Of  pitying  Friendship.     Then,  as  if  on  wings 

With  which  the  liberated  bird  ascends 

The  trackless  fields  of  ether,  he  survey'd 

Europe's  exhaustless  stores,32  and  o'er  the  sea 

When  once  like  Jonah  he  had  been  cast  forth  950 

To  the  wild  fury  of  the  elements, 

Gliding  with  prosperous  gales,  explored  the  coast 

Of  fruitful  Barbary.     There  'mid  fragrant  groves 

Where  glides  the  zephyr's  wing,  with  sweets  surcharged, 

The  wily  Arab,  the  dark-minded  Moor, 

Unpitying  Turk,  and  persecuted  Jew, 

Roam  in  wild  hordes,  unconscious  of  the  charms 

That  Nature  spreads  around ;  as  the  dull  swine 

Heeds  not  the  trodden  pearl.     Westward  he  prest. 

Over  Mulluvian  waters,  whose  fair  banks  960 

Fring'd  with  the  rose-bay  on  its  graceful  stem33 

Glitter'd  in  varying  beauty.     There  he  saw 

Shelter'd  by  hoary  Atlas,  'mid  cool  groves 

Of  lofty  palm,  Morocco's  scattered  mosques 


73 

With- snowy  minarets,  her  princes'  horneb, 

Painted  pavilions  like  the  gold-streak' d  even, 

Shaming  the  low  and  wretched  huts  where  herd 

The  abject  people.     There,  devoid  of  state 

Crown  or  regalia,  sits  the  Emperor 

Upon  his  barbe,  and  'neath  the  simple  shade  070 

Of  his  umbrella,  holg^s  his  Meshoa^,34 

Dooming  his  crimeless  vassals  ^vith  the  tone 

Of  lawless  despotism.  *  0 

But^he  youth  sigh'd 
For  climes  of  liberty,  and  turning  sought 
That  which  the  foot  of  Slavery  may  not  press 
Ere  her  sad  spirit  hears  a  heavenly  voice 
Exclaim,  "Be  free  !"  and  her  loos'd  manacles 
Vanish,  as  fell  imprison'd  Peter's  chain 
Before  the  Angel.     The  capricious  sea 
Again  he  woos,  to  view  that  native  land,  980 

The  winds  were  peaceful,  but  the  wrath  of  man 
Troubled  the  waters.     Fearful  engines  breathe 
Forth  from  their  dark,  cylindric  chambers,  blasts 
Of  thundering  terror  o'er  the  ignited  wave. 
Twice  had  the  Sun  his  flaming  coursers  quench'd, 
And  lav'd  his  gold  locks  ere  he  sought  his  rest, 
Yet  still  the  deep  foundations  of  the  main 
7 


74 

Echoed  those  battle  thunders.35     Haply  scap'd 

He  sees  white  Albion's  cliffs  their  welcome  beam 

Upon  his  eye,  and  revels  in  the  bowers  900 

Of  his  soft  infancy.     The  rapturous  joy, 

That  hail'd  his  glad  arrival,  past,  he  breaks  • 

The  transient  dream  of  rest,  and  bold  embarks 

A  hardy  pioneer  to  this  New  Wor^d,36 

Hewing  out  danger's  path.     With  watchful  eye 

Ev'n  as  a  father  shields  the  son  he  loves, 

He  nUrs'd  the  infant  colony,  w^ich  hung 

In  deathful  hesitancy,  and  with  care 

Shelter'd  that  vine,  which  in  the  wilderness 

The  cold  storm  threaten'd.  1000 

But  the  rugged  brow 

Of  Chieftains  frovvn'd  upon  him,  for  his  wiles 

Perplex'd  their  own.     Baffled  at  length,  and  foil'd 

In  stratagem,  he  tastes  the  captive's  lot, 

And  borne  in  triumph  sees  the  royal  tent 

Of  Worovvocomoco.     There  enthron'd 

.Sat  great  Powhatan.37     Flowing  robes  array'd 

His  form,  and  a  bright  coronet  of  plumes 

Wav'd  o'er  his  brow.     Upon  his  features  sat 

A  native  majesty,  uncheck'd  by  age 

Which  knew  of  no  infirmity,  and  seem'd  1010 


75 

Well  to  befit  the  high  imperial  lord 
Of  thirty  subject  kings.     Around  him  rang'd 
His  chiefs  in  solemn  council,  while  their  eyes 
Bent  darkly  on  the  earth,  seem'd  to  portend 
An  ominous  doom.     But  still  the  prisoner  read 
Nought  like  stern  hatred  on  those  thoughtful  brows 
That  ponder'd  o'er  his  fate. 

On  the  green  turf 

They  spread  a  table,  generously  heap'd 

With  all  their  choicest  viands  ;  the  fair  haunch 

Of  savory  venison,  victims  from  the  flood,  1020 

And  from  the  air,  and  fresh  from  hasting  hands 

The  juicy  corn-cake.     No  such  kind  repast 

In  gentle  friendship  heralded  thy  death, 

Poor  Ugolino.3  8     Thou  didst  frantic  grope 

Amid  thy  famish'd  sons,  till  thou  couldst  hear 

No  more  those  moving  skeletons  implore 

For  water  and  for  bread  ;  and  when  those  lips 

Hunger  had  seal'd  forever,  thou  didst  live 

Writhing  in  burning  pangs,  day  after  day 

Of  untold  misery,  till  Mercy  broke  1030 

The  long  protracted,  agonizing  thread 

That  held  thee  from  the  grave. 


76 

With  courteous  eare 

These  sons  of  Nature  gave  the  parting  rite 

Of  hospitality,  and  gaily  strove 

The   prisoner  to  sustain  the  festive  hour 

With  cheerful  voice.     But  as  the  phantom  guest 

Marr'd  Mackbeth's  banquet,  so  the  morsel  fail'd 

To  gratify  the  sense,  and  bitter  dregs 

From  the  sweet  draught  clave  to  the  victim's  lip, 

For  on  his  soul  the  ghastly  visage  glar'd  1040 

Of  beck'ning  Death.     The  fatal  feast  was  o'er  : 

And  to  his  doom  the  pinion'd  captive  led. 

Yet  no  exulting  shout,  no  taunting  hiss 

.Broke  on  the  deep  solemnity  ;  it  seem'd 

A  deed  of  stern,  reluctant  policy, 

Averting  evil,  not  avenging  hate. 

Heroic  Andre  !  Thou,  perchance  didst  fall 

Amid  such  sadness ;  for  the  bursting  sigh 

Of  sympathy,  from  strangers  and  from  foes, 

Bore  tribute  to  thy  virtues,  and  deplord  1050 

Thine  ignominious  fate. 

But  now  are  rear'd 

Four  massy  clubs,  high  o'er  the  victims  head, 
While  the  grim  warriors,  with  averted  face 
Await  the  signal.     One  brief  interval 


77 

Of  anguish'd  thought  convuls'd  the  sufferer's  mind  : 
That  all  his  honours,  all  his  high  designs, 
All  his  ambition's  concentrated  hopes 
Must  end  by  savage  hands.     Pride  stamp'd  her  seal 
Of  cold  reluctance,  on  a  brow  unblanch'd 
By  fear  of  Death.     To  fall  in  laurell'd  fields  1060 

Mid  shouts  of  victory,  as  heroes  die, 
Seem'd  enviable  glory.     'Mid  the  throng 
That  gaz'd  in  silence  on  the  prostrate  foe, 
As  if  half  doubtful  whether  death  had  power 
O'er  him  like  others,  one  young,  timid  maid39 
Sat  neav  the  throne.     Soft  tears  of  Pity  wound 
•Their  copious  course,  and  her  imploring  hands 
Unconsciously  she  rais'd  tow'rd  him  who  seem'd 
Her  sire,  but  from  those  trembling  lips  no  sound 
Gain'd  utterance.     At  length  the  trance  of  Fear     1070 
Vanish'd,  and  from  those  dove-like  eyes  shone  forth 
A  dazzling  spirit.     That  meek  child,  who  seem'd 
To  shrink  as  the  Mimosa,  now  evinc'd 
More  than  a  warrior's  daring.     Like  the  winds, 
Rushing  in  wildness  tow'rd  th'  imprison'd  foe, 
His  head  she  clasp'd. 

"  Now  let  the  death-stroke  fall !'? 
Boldly  she  cried,  "  for  ere  it  reach  that  head 
7* 


78 

Tiiis  shall  be  crush' d."     The  warriors'  uprais'd  arm* 
For  execuiion  bar'd  in  vigorous  strength 
Unconsciously  declin'd,  and  deep  respect  1080 

Ev'n  for  a  child,  wander'd  with  soft'ning  trace 
O'er  their  hard  features.     That  unwonted  sight 
The  monarch  could  not  brook;  his  soul  was  mov'd 
To  mark  his  daughter's  bearing,  and  he  bade 
To  loose  the  prisoner's  bonds,  and  loud  exclaim'd, 
"Rise!    and  be  free." 

Thus  thou  the  royal  maid 
Of  swarthy  Egypt,  through  thy  pitying  heart 
Didst  save  a  humbled  nation.     Thou  didst  hear, 
An  infant  wailing  in  his  slimy  ark, 
'Mid  the  green  rushes  on  the  river's  brink,  1090 

And  hadst  compassion.     Ah  !  how  slightly  deenvd 
Thy  haughty  father,  that  his  palace  proud 
Nurtur'd  the  Hebrews'  hope  :  as  little  thought 
The  Indian  Monarch,  that  his  child's  weak  arm 
Fostered  that  colony,  whose  rising  light 
Should  quench  his  own  forever.     Thus  a  flower. 
Nurs'd  in  the  forest,  shed  its  healing  balm 
Upon  our  wounded  sires.     Shrinking  they  felt 
The  serpent's  venom,  and  this  noble  plant 
Solac'd  and  sav'd  them.     By  the  grateful  hand       1100 


79 

m 

Of  to nd  Refinement  gather'd,  on  the  breast 

Of  Piety  it  hung,  and  meekly  drank 

The  breath  of  fairer  climes  :  but  early  shed 

Its  withering  bloom  in  peace.     What  though  this  flower 

A  giddy  world  might  scorn,  because  its  leaves 

The  sun  had  darken'd,  what  if  her  proud  glance 

Saw  in  its  form  nor  grace  nor  comeliness  ; 

Might  not  its  incense  rise  as  pure  to  Him 

Who  weigheth  spirits  ? 

The  unbidden  tear 

Rushing,  Oh  !  Indian  Princess,  o'er  thy  grave          1110 
EfFac'd  my  theme  a  moment,  turn'd  my  eye 
From  those  tall  ships  that  land  their  ceaseless  freight 
On  the  new  coast.     I  see  our  ancestors, 
A  thoughtful  band,  escaping  from  the  frown 
Of  a  hard  parent.     Resolute  they  seem, 
Though  sad  of  heart ;  while  their  exploring  eye 
Wanders  o'er  Plymouth's  beach,  and  thickets  dark, 
All  tenantless.     A  feeble  light  they  struck 
On  a  cold  shore,  a  id  oft  its  livid  spire 
Trembling,  and  narrowing,  like  a  lance's  point         1120 
Seern'd  to  expire ;  but  still  a  viewless  breath 
Would  fan  and  feed  it,  though  loud  torrents  fell 
And  the  wild  desert  howl'd. 


80 

Do  I  behold 

The  men  of  peace  approach,  with  smile  serene, 
Reaching  the  hand  of  amity,  to  greet 
The  Indians  as  their  brethren  ?     Meek  they  stand. 
And  weaponless,  save  with  the  shield  of  truth 
And  equity.     How  from  their  leader's  eye 
Beams  the  calm  lustre  of  an  upright  soul, 
Brighten'd  by  pure  benevolence,  as  shines  1130 

The  Queen  of  Heaven  upon  the  lunar  bow. 
Firm  as  th' Athenian  sage,  to  whom  the  scenes 
Of  life  or  death,  the  dazzling  pomp  of  wealth, 
Or  hemlock  draught  were  equal,  is  the  port 
Of  the  Colonial  Sire,  the  Friend  of  Man, 
While  with  the  diamond  seal  of  Truth  he  stamps 
His  oathless  treaty.40     Well  might  he  who  sigh'd 
A  fugitive41  from  his  paternal  home, 
Feel  for  the  outcast ;  as  sad  Israel  learnt 
In  sultry  Egypt's  tyrant  clime,  to  know  1140 

The  stranger's  heart.     With  kind,  assuring  words, 
And  answering  deeds,  he  binds  the  deathless  chain 
Of  friendship  ;  and  though  o'er  his  silent  grave, 
Time  long  hath  wander'd,  still  at  the  blest  name 
Of  the  beloved  Miquon,48  starts  the  tear 
Of  Indian  gratitude. 


81 

Finn  in  his  path 

Trod  his  disciples,  faithful  as  the*race 
Of  llechab,43  to  their  pious  sire's  command, 
To  shun  the  inflaming  draught.  What  though  their  faith 
Sternness  might  persecute,  or  Scorn  deride,  1150 

Flow'd  it  not  from  HIS  accents  who  forbade 
The  vengeful  deed  ?  did  it  not  harmonize 
With  His  pure  life,  who  gave  his  patient  cheek 
To  the  harsh  smiters,  and  before  his  foes 
Stood  as  the  guileless  Lamb  ?     Comported  not 
Its  precepts  with  the  spirit  of  that  Friend 
Of  wretched  man,  whose  advent  melody, 
Whose  intercession,  and  whose  dying  gift, 
Alike  were  peace  ?     And  when  his  glorious  reign 
O'er  Earth  commences,  when  the  shock  of  war,     1160 
The  din  of  discord  vanish,  who  shall  lead 
With  purer  joy,  in  reconciling  bands 
The  Lion  and  the  Lamb,  than  these  who  dwelt 
An  unresisting,  unoffending  race. 
Calm,  'mid  a  boist'rous   world  ?     Are  not  the  souls 
Who  flee  from  evil,  violence,  and  strife, 
Obtaining  preparation  for  that  clime 
Where  evil  entereth  not.  nor  woe  nor  pain, 
For  all  is  rest  ? 


82 

Long  had  the  natives  drawn, 

From  the  full  store-house  of  the  Christian's  sins,     1 170 
Weapons  against  his  faith.     Long  had  they  heard 
A  language  from  his  lips,  which  by  his  life 
Was  contradicted.     Long,  too  long  inquired, 
Of  a  perfidious  race,  ye,  who  command 
Us,  Indians,  to  observe  the  righteous  rule 
Which  ye  transgress,  by  breaking  that  just  law, 
Dishonour  ye  not  God  ?     But  here  they  mourn'd 
Nor  fraud,  nor  wrong ;  the  purchased  land  they  gave, 
Unstain'd  with  blood,  and  on  its  borders  dwelt,     ^ 
As  with  their  brethren.     Soon  that  province  rose  1180 
To  wealth  and  power,  while  on  the  verdant  banks 
Of  rolling  Delaware,  in  beauteous  state, 
Love's  city  smiled. 

Quick  o'er  the  ample  bound, 
From  those  broad  lakes,  dark  with  eternal  rain, 
To  the  bright  bow'rs  where  sleepless  summer  sports 
With  rosy  Florida  ;  and  pressing  west 
O'er  the  vain  barrier,  and  retreating  tide 
Of  Mississippi,  spread  our  ancestors, 
Taking  a  goodly  portion,  with  their  sword, 
And  with  their  bow.     But  whether  the  rich  soil     1190 
Peaceful  was  gain'd,  or  snatch'd  in  hostile  wrath, 


83 

The  natives  suffer'd.     Slow  diseases  came, 
And  swept  them  like  the  insect  tribes  away, 
Before  the  ev'ning  blast.     Intemperance 
Destroy'd  her  tens  of  thousands;  Famine  stern 
Leagued"  with  the  pestilence,  and  in  their  path 
The  mortal  scorn,  and  hatred  of  white  men 
Stalk'd,  gleaning  what  was  left. 

Ah  !  could'st  thou  rise 

From  thy  dark  bed  of  waters,  wretched  Chief! 

Unhappy  Orellana!44  what  a  scene  1200 

Could'st  thou  unfold  !     From  thy  wide,  fearless  range 

O'er  woods  and  mountains,  by  the  mighty  tide 

Of  vast  La  Plata,  from  the  subject  vows 

Of  thine  adoring  tribe,  from  charities 

Of  kindred  and  of  country,  from  the  bonds 

That  to  the  heart's  deep  centre  link  the  names 

Of  husband  and  of  father,  wert  thou  torn 

By  Spanish  cruelty.     The  tall  ship  moves 

From  the  dear  strand,  and  the  red-straining  eyes 

Of  thy  enslav'd  companions,  glare  to  thine  1210 

Unutterable  things.     Incessant  wrongs4* 

Harrow  thy  lofty  spirit,  the  red  scourge 

Brandish'd  by  menial  insolence,  drinks  oft 

Thy  blood,  but  haughtily  comprest,  thy  lip, 


84 

Deigns  no  complaint.     Humbled  beneath  the  brute, 

Thy  high  soul  bends  not,  rising  o'er  its  pangs, 

Invincible ;  though  oft  a  burning  tear 

Would  start,  to  mark  the  accumulated  wrongs 

That  crush'd  thy  faithful  followers.     'Twas  nigTit ! 

And  Silence  leagued  with  rayless  Darkness  rul'd    1220 

The  slumbering  wave.     What  rends  the  startled  ear 

With  wounding  clamour,  rousing  from  their  cells 

La  Plata's  sons,  as  if  the  angel's  trump 

Had  warn'd  the  grave's  cold  tenants  ?     'Tis  the  cry 

Of  Orellana's  vengeance.     Ah  !  what  strews 

The  decks  with  slain,  and  bids  the  purple  tide 

To  flow,  as  from  a  wine-press  ?     'Tis  the  arm 

Of  Orellana.     See  him  tow'ring  stand, 

With  thong  distain'd,46  as  erst  on  Lehi's  sands, 

Vindictive  Sampson  o'er  Philistia's  sons  1230 

Slaughter'd  in  heaps,  the  dying  and  the  dead, 

His  simple  weapon  rear'd.     The  coward  crew 

Fly  in  wild  terror,  for  the  soul  of  guilt 

Is  dastardly.     The  gallant  Chieftain  call'd 

His  victor-band  around  him.     None  were  lost: 

The  ten  stood  faithful,  while  beneath  enclos'd47 

Hundreds  of  p'ale  oppressor's  shudd'ring  cower'd, 

In  midnight  darkness.     But  the  tide  of  Fate, 


86 

Returns  with  whelming  surge.     To  thee  is  giv?n, 

A  glorious  conquest,  Chieftain  !     but  the  torch       1240 

Of  triumph  lights  thy  miserable  tomb. 

They  come  from  durance,  but  they  dare  not  meet 

The  conqueror's  glance.     Not  to  the  deck  they  rush, 

Where  reek  their  lifeless  comrades,  but  conceal'd 

In  ambush  dark,  from  clefts  and  crevices, 

Aim  at  the  foe.     The  fatal  lead  is  sent 

In  ceaseless  show'rs,  and  every  moment  wings 

Destruction's  shaft.     Brave  Orellana  scorns 

The  dastard  vengeance,  and  with  glance  that  speaks 

The  dark  contempt  of  a  majestic  soul,  1250 

Wrapping  itself  in  death,  he  plunges  deep 

In  Ocean's  breast.     His  followers  by  his  side, 

Dare  the  same  fate,  counting  the  pitiless  wave 

More  merciful  than  Man. 

Oh  !  ye  who  feel 

Strong  tides  of  sympathy  convulse  the  soul, 
When  crush'd  Messenia  against  Sparta  rose, 
To  rend  oppression's  yoke,  have  ye  no  tear 
For  Orellana  ?     Have  ye  not  a  sigh 
For  that  sad  race,  of  whose  despairing  lot 
His  was  an  emblem?  1260 

8 


86 

Yet  amid  the  gloom, 

Long  strove  their  ancient  Genius,  struggling  still 
For  life,  and  liberty,  though  awful  Fate 
Drew  on  the  darkest  hour.     Like  some  tall  form 
Tow'ring  in  strength,  against  the  storm  he  rear'd 
His  front  reproachfully.     The  tempest  came, 
Strange  thunders  bellow'd,  flashing  meteors  blaz'd 
And  hollow  voices  on  the  troubled  blast 
Warn'd  him  away.     To  the  cold  cliffs  he  hied, 
That  overhung  the  waters;  but  the  surge 
Tossing  and  raving,  rear'd  its  haughty  crest  1270 

Red  with  his  children's  blood.     Groaning  he  sought 
His  island  home,  where  as  in  Paradise, 
The  vales  were  wont  to  blossom,  and  the  birds 
Warble  at  his  approach.     There  Ruin  swept 
With  murderous  besom,  Tyranny  the  scourge 
Plied  ceaseless,  and  his  high,  indignant  heart 
SwelPd,  as  he  rush'd  to  combat.     But  the  dart 
Hissing,  from  subtle  Treachery's  hand,  transfix'd 
His  throbbing  breast.     The  serpent's  hideous  coil 
Twin'd  round  his  bow'rs  of  bliss.      Fainting,  he  twin'd 
To  his  last  refuge,  to  the  stormy  throne  1281 

Of  cloud-encircled  Andes,  whose  proud  glance 
O'erlooks  the  misty  globe.     But  peace  nor  rest 


87 

Awaited  him  ;  from  yawning  chasms  burst  forth 
Volcanic  flames,  and  with  their  livid  spires 
Wreath'd  round  his  tortur'd  frame. 

Beneath  his  feet 

The  marble  summits  cleft,  and  with  the  strife 
Of  warring  elements,  and  rending  rocks 
Mingled  his  death-groans.     Pitying  Nature  wept, 
As  the  vex'd  spirit  of  bold  Freedom  left  1290 

His  favour'd  home  ;  and  his  forsaken  sons 
Fled  to  the  forest,  with  wild  beast  to  hold 
Degraded  fellowship.     Goaded  ev'n  there 
To  desperation,  on  their  foes  they  turn'd 
Like  the  crush'd  adder,  spurn'd  and  impotent, 
But  spared  for  longer  torments.     Yet  some  beams 
Of  brightness  linger'd  round  them  ;  some  faint  trace 
Of  virtue,  and  of  noble  spirit  lurk'd 
Amid  the  ruins.     Thus  thy  fallen  king, 
Assyria  !  feeding  with  vile  herds,  retain'd  1300 

Some  portion  of  his  dignity,  that  aw'd 
His  brute  companions.     In  their  lowly  path 
Renouncing  Manhood's  port,  he  grop'd,  with  locks 
Bare  to  the  dews  of  heaven,  while  side  by  side 
An  equal  lot  they  shar'd  ;  but  if  too  near 
With  heads  declin'd,  they  prest,  to  gaze  intent 


88 

Upon  his  downcast  eye,  a  flashing  glance 

Alarm'd  the  dastard  throng,  as  if  from  earth 

In  robes  of  flame,  had  risen  some  frowning  shade 

Of  buried  majesty.  1310 


Say  !  who  again  will  listen  to  the  call 
Of  the  returning  Muse  ?  who  rove  with  her, 
Not  in  the  pomp  of  Homer,  to  the  fields 
Of  victor  Greece,  the  conflagrated  domes 
Of  ruin'd  Ilion  ;  not  by  tuneful  reed 
Of  mighty  Maro  summon'd  to  the  march 
Of  his  majestic  hero,  nor  allur'd 
O'er  the  wide  wave  in  wandering  course  to  roam 
With  sage  Ulysses,  nor  with  joy  upborne 
On  Fancy's  silvery  plume,  what  time  she  steers          10 
'Tween  Truth's  fair  region,  and  the  varying  clouds 
Of  wild  Romance,  tinting  with  rainbow  hue 
Roderick,  or  haughty  Marmion,  or  the  throng 
Of  Caledonia's  monarchs,  but  with  voice 
Untun'd  by  art,  climbing  with  rustic  step 
Undisciplin'd,  the  lone  and  misty  cliff 
Where  mourns  the  forest  Chieftain  o'er  his  race 
Banish'd  and  lost,  of  whom  not  one  remains 
To  pour  their  tears  for  him.1 
8* 


90 

Ah  !  who  will  turn 

From  Fashion's  pageants,  from  the  bright  parterre     20 
Of  polish'd  Taste,  wherfc  Poesy  her  gems 
Scatters  as  dew-drops,  from  the  heights  sublime 
Of  intellectual  grandeur,  who  will  deign 
With  meek  Humanity  his  gnide,  to  trace 
Paths  where  the  torch  of  glory  never  cast 
Its  blazonry  upon  the  ample  shield 
Of  proud  historic  fame  !  Yet  souls  there  are 
Who  love  their  Saviour's  precept  to  "  impart, 
Hoping  for  nought  again  ;"    Oh,  let  these  still 
Explore  the  wild,  oft  snatching  as  they  rove  SO 

From  cold  Oblivion's  caves,  memorials  frail 
Of  an  unhappy  race. 

When  despot  sway 

Opprest  our  country,  and  with  wounded  heart, 
But  soul  invincible,  the  untried  sword 
In  her  own  right  she  rais'd,  quick  from  the  wild 
The  natives  flocking,  join'd  her  doubtful  cause 
And  struggled  with  her;  pouring  forth  their  blood 
To  nourish  that  young  tree  of  Liberty 
Whose  fruits  they  might  not  taste. 

Once  as  they  rov'd 
In  our  defence,  the  hospitable  shore  40 


91 

Of  war-stain'd  Delaware,  a  band  they  spi  ed 
In  England's  livery.     Their  swift  arrow  fled, 
In  fatal  aim.     One  British  youth  alone, 
Among  the  dead,  surrounded  by  his  foes 
With  lifted  tomahawks  essay'd  to  sell 
His  life  as  Britain,  and  as  Sparta  taught 
Their  sons  to  hold  its  price. 

Deep  silence  reign'd 

For  one  dread  moment,  while  those  dark,  red  brows 
Bent  on  the  youth,  his  dauntless  port  survey'd 
With  kindling  admiration.     Thus  perchance,  50 

Grim  Death  hath  paus'd,  when  his  menacing  shaft 
Hung  o'er  some  beauteous  victim.     But  with  step 
Firm,  and  reproachful  eye,  a  hoary  Chief 
Bent  his  strong  bow,  and  aim'd  his  weapon's  point 
At  that  lone  breast.     "  God  of  my  youth,  forgive  !" 
In  silence  pray'd  the  victim  ;  "  at  this  hour 
Of  my  extremity,  pardon  and  save 
The  agonizing  soul.     Those  whom  I  love 
Dearer  than  life,  but  must  no  more  behold, 
Oh  !  comfort  and  protect.     Saviour  !  to  thee,  00 

My  spirit  hastes." 

Why  did  that  hoary  man 
Drop  the  keen  shaft,  that  on  its  well-strung  bow 


92 

Stood  trembling,  wing'd  for  flight  ?  Why  rushing  grasp 

With  eager  vehemence  the  captive's  hand 

Whose  rapt  soul,  gazing  o'er  the  verge  of  life, 

Had  half  believ'd  its  awful  voy'ge  was  past 

To  dread  Eternity.     Thus  stood  the  youth 

So  pale,  so  death-like  on  Moriah's  mount, 

When  from  the  altar,  from  the  gleaming  steel, 

From  the  rais'd  death-blow  snatch'd,  he  heard  the  voice 

Save  !  Save  thy  son  !  71 

Reluctantly  and  slow 

The  haughty  band  their  vanquish'd  prey  resign'd  ; 

But  rankling  enmity  had  learnt  to  curb 

Its  bitterness,  if  he,  whose  temples  bore 

Time's  silver  crown,  commanded  ;  he  to  whom 

A  race  not  savage,  who  complacent  boast 

Superior  forms  of  courtesy  refin'd 

Scarce  yield  respect.     The  silent  Chieftain  led 

To  his  rude  cabin,  rous'd  the  slumb'ring  flame 

To  cheerful  brightness,  spread  his  couch  of  skins       80 

To  rest  the  weary  one,  his  simple  food 

Gave  to  his  hand,  observing  with  kind  glance 

If  fearfully  he  tasted,  oft  with  smiles 

Assuring  him,  and  bending  o'er  to  hold 

With  anxious  tenderness  his  throbbing  head 


93 

Ev'en  as  a  Father  would.     Thus,  day  by  day, 

And  while  slow  nights  with  wintry  pace  held  on, 

He  strove  to  make  his  ransom'd  guest  forget 

The  prisoner,  in  the  friend.     Proudly  he  led 

To  the  rude  chase,  exulting  as  he  mark'd  90 

The  glowing  ardour  of  that  noble  soul, 

Reckless  of  danger.     When  slow  Evening  drew 

Her  starry  curtains  o'er  their  humble  home, 

The  patient  Chieftain  taught  the  barbarous  sounds, 

And  uncouth  utterance  of  his  native  tongue. 

But  when  some  interval  of  silent  pause 

Would  intervene,  when  the  youth's  soul  had  flown 

Back  to  his  country,  to  his  pictur'd  halls, 

Retracing  scenes  of  recollected  bliss, 

Seeking  communion  with  those  glowing  forms  100 

Which  rul'd  his  heart,  the  Sire's  dark  piercing  eye 

Read  on  the  varying  volume  of  his  brow 

The  spirit's  changes,  till  unwonted  tears 

Stole  o'er  his  furrow 'd  cheek.     These  he  dismiss'd, 

As  traitor  visitants,  prone  to  reveal 

The  weakness  of  the  soul,  which  proudly  bade 

Her  guards  to  veil  her  temple,  and  conceal 

The  glowing  incense  she  was  forc'd  to  burn 

To  sensibility.     Thus,  in  his  cave, 


94 

Stern  Burhy  labour'd  to  condense  the  tears  110 

Of  sorrow-struck  Ambition,  till  he  wrought 
The  forge  of  madness. 

Well  hast  thou  pourtray'd 

His  lineaments,  O  Scott !     Say,  may  we  place 
Thy  name2  upon  that  canvas,  which  high  Fame 
Blazons,  but  yet  inscribes  not  ?     Wisdom's  eye 
Hangs  o'er  the  vivid  painture,  and  forgets 
To  frown  on  Fancy's  work,  so  strong  the  hues 
Of  Knowledge,  and  the  lights  of  Truth  are  blent 
WTith  the  design. 

But  now  advancing  Spring, 

Threw  her  fresh  beauties  o'er  the  waking  Earth.      120 
The  primrose  pale,  the  placid  snow-drop  rose 
In  loveliness  :  but  stormy  still,  and  dark 
\Vere  human  passions,  and  the  heart  of  Man, 
Unchang'd  by  Nature's  gentleness,  enshrin'd 
The  image  of  dread  Strife.     The  warlike  Chief 
Sigh'd  for  the  new  campaign,  from  Winter's  rust 
Reliev'd  his  armour,  and  with  joyous  tone 
Summon'd  his  young  companion  to  the  toil 
Of  weary  march.     Through  forests  deep  and  dark 
O'er  many  a  hill,  o'er  many  a  river,  swoll'n  130 

With  melting;  snows,  they  past.     At  length  a  cliff 


93 

Gave  sudden  to  their  view,  the  distant  plain 

Where  England  spread  her  troops.  Fair  were  their  tents, 

As  lingering  hillocks  of  untrodden  snow 

On  Spring's  soft  verdure.     Gay,  the  fresh'ning  breeze 

Play'd  'mid  their  folds,  and  bore  to  that  young  ear 

In  mingled  symphony  of  martial  sounds, 

The  music  of  its  country.     Every  joy, 

And  sport  of  boyhood,  every  raptur'd  hope 

Of  early  youth,  came  thronging  with  the  sound,        140 

Came  back  unchasten'd  to  his  inmost  soul, 

Raising  that  quick,  convulsive  throb,  which  mocks 

All  utterance.     Still  he  rnark'd  not  that  dark  eye 

Intently  tracing  eve<'y  nameless  change 

Which  Feeling's  pencil,  dipt  in  strongest  ties 

Press'd  on  his  polish'd  brow.     At  length  a  voice 

Broke  the  deep  trance.     "  See'st  thou  thy  countrymen 

See'st  thou  our  enemies?     Proudly  they  wait 

To  give  us  battle.     Think  !  Who  sav'd  thy  life  ? 

Who  took  thee  to  his  home  ?     Who  taught  thy  hand 

Helpless  and  soft,  the  firm  canoe  to  build,  151 

And  guide  it  o'er  the  flood  ?     Who  shew'd  thee  first 

To  snare  the  dext'rous  Beaver,  hiding  close 

In  his  recess  ?     to  aim  the  arrow's  point, 

As  sure  as  death  ?     Thy  lips  knew  not  to  frame 


96 

Aught,  save  the  speech  of  white  men  ;  now  they  pout 

In  free  and  manly  tone,  the  sounds  sublime 

Of  our  bold  language.     Say  !  who  shed  this  light 

O'er  thy  dark  mind  ?     But  I  forbear  to  urge 

The  memory  of  thy  debt.     I  only  ask  160 

Wilt  thou  repay  with  hatred  ?     Wilt  thou  join 

The  ranks  that  waste  our  country  ?    Wilt  thou  pierce 

This  aged  breast  ?" 

-Sudden,  indignant  tears, 

Burst  ere  the  answer — "  Sacred  as  my  life, 

Shall  thine  be  held.     The  foe  who  seeks  thy  heart, 

Seeks  mine." 

The  Chieftain  rais'd  his  clasping  hands 
To  shade  his  visage,  as  they  onward  rov'd ; 
Hopeless  concealment !  for  his  mighty  soul, 
Wrought  up  and  struggling,  spoke  through  all  disguise. 
At  length  his  voice  in  soften'd  tones  inquir'd,  170 

"  Hast  thou  a  father  ?' 

"  Yes.  My  sire  surviv'd, 
When  from  the  blest  land  that  gave  me  birth, 
I  parted." 

"Ah  !  how  wretched  is  his  heart, 
Deeming  thee  lost !  Know'st  thou  that  I  was  once 
A  father  ?  that  my  graceful  son  attained 


97 

Thy  years  and  stature  ?     Like  a  lion  bold, 

He  rush'd  to  war  ;    where  darkest  danger  frown'd 

His  eye  was  flashing.     But  I  saw  him  fall, 

Struck  down  in  battle.     At  my  feet  he  lay, 

Cover'd  with  wounds.     He  groan'd  not,  as  he  died  ! 

My  only  one!  Strong,  brave,  and  beautiful.  181 

Yes  !  like  a  man  he  fell ;    and  I,  his  sire, 

Have  like  a  man  aveng'd  him.     Blood  has  flow'd 

T*  atone  for  his  in  torrents ;  and  my  soul 

That  sunk  with  him,  in  his  red,  tort'ring  wounds 

Arose  to  vengeance."     Deep  convulsive  sobs 

Now  check'd  his  utterance  ;  his  keen,  restless  eye, 

Was  wild,  but  tearless,  and  his  spirit  strove 

To  rule  its  agony,  as  the  worn  rock 

Battles  the  stormy  wave.     Silent  they  rov'd,  190 

And  calmness  slowly  o'er  the  mourner's  breast 

Settled,  like  dews  upon  the  heaving  earth, 

Rent  by  an  inward  conflict.     Now  the  dawn 

On  her  grey  plumes  long-balanc'd,  fled  away, 

And  sudden  lustre  glow'd. 

"  Dost  thou  behold 

Yon  golden  orb,  and  is  thy  young  heart  glad 
To  see  it  gild  the  morn  ?" 
9 


98 

"  That  beauteous  sky, 
Rich  with  prevailing  day,  Oh  !  who  can  view 
Without  delight?"     "'I,"  said  the  hoary  man, 
"  Have  no  delight.     See'st  thou  the  heavenward  head 
Of  yon  magnolia,  with  its  ample  boughs  201 

And  its  pure  blossoms?     Say,  dost  thou  inhale 
Its  breathing  fragrance  ?" 

"  Yes.     Nor  can  I  view 
That  glory  of  the  forest,  but  my  heart 
Is  full  of  pleasure." 

"  I  behold  it  too  ; 

I  gaze  upon  its  charms ;  but  pleasure  comes 
To  this  sad  heart  no  more.     Go  then  !  Return  ! 
Go  to  thy  father !  that  his  heart  may  joy 
When  the  sun  rises,  and  the  trees  put  forth 
The  buds  of  Spring."  210 

While  with  insatiate  zeal 

The  Red  Manroam'd  the  forest,  or  from  floods 
Allur'd  the  finny  spoil,  the  toil-worn  hand 
Of  his  more  weak  companion,  wrought  to  win 
In  scanty  harvest  from  the  tardy  earth, 
The  swelling  legume,  and  that  tub'rous  root 
Which  in  their  clay-built  cells,  the  hardy  sons 
Of  emerald  Erin  bless.     Like  modest  worth 


99 

Oft  shrouded  in   a  plain  and  homely  garb, 

'Neath  its  rough  leaf,  and  lurid  flow'r,  it  hides 

Pale  Penury's  blessing.     This  the  New  World  gave 

When  in  the  cradle  of  her  innocence  221 

To  haughty  Europe,  who  with  curious  eye, 

As  peers  the  miser  at  some  new-found  hoard, 

Surveyed  the  infant  stranger,  and  her  gift 

Grasp'd  as  the  bane  of  Famine.3     By  its  side 

The  fruitful  maize,4  in  verdant  vistas  rear'd 

Its  spire  majestic,  to  the  playful  breeze 

Spreading  its  loosely-waving  panicles,  while  low 

The  purple  anthers  bending  o'er  to  kiss 

The  silken,  tassel'd  styles,  delight  the  eye  230 

Of  watchful  Ceres.     Autumn's  earliest  call 

Demands  its  treasures,  and  the  caskets  pour 

Forth  from  their  silver  cones,  in  streams  profuse, 

The  vegetable  gold.     Its  lingering  wealth 

Spreads  in  rich  tribute  at  the  icy  throne 

Of  that  swart  form,  the  licens'd  King  of  storms, 

For  whose  support,  soft  Spring  in  tears  awakes 

The  infant  germ,  bright  Summer  toiling  wastes 

Her  fervid  beauty,  and  grave  Autumn  roams 

As  a  tax-gatherer,  o'er  the  vast  domain,  24(T 

Heaping  his  revenue. 


100 

While  warlike  zeal 

Nerv'd  the  bold  sons  of  Nature,  as  they  rush'd 
In  that  red  path,  where  Earth's  proud  heroes  roll 
The  car  o'er  trampled  life,  with  silent  step 
The  softer  sex,  still  unregarded,  cull'd 
From  wild,  or  fountain  side,  such  plants  as  aid 
The  healer's  art.     And  might  they  hope  to  shun 
The  cup  of  scorn,  because  they  meekly  went 
On  Mercy's  mission  ?     Does  a  sapient  world, 
Ev'n  at  her  noon-tide  beam,  accord  her  meed  250 

To  the  mild  race,  whose  heav'n-taught  Science  heals 
The  rankling  wound,  extracts  from  stern  disease 
Its  sting,  and  props  frail  Man  to  cope  with  Death  ? 
No  !  to  the  licensed  murd'rer,  to  the  wrath 
Of  Cesar's  wild  ambition,  to  the  scourge 
Of  bleeding.  Cambria,  ruthless  Tamerlane, 
The  Swedish  mad-man,  and  the  tyrant  son 
Of  Corsica.     When  the  stern  warrior  fell, 
Writhing  in  agony,  the  patient  hand 
Of  those  despis'd  restorers,  knew  to  check  260 

The  purple  tide,  and  bind  the  throbbing  chasm 
With  happy  skill.     If  Fever's  fervid  rage 
Glow'd  in  the  boiling  veins,  with  care  they  sought 
The  firm  Diospyros,6  whose  ligneous  shield 


101 

Repels  th'  untemper'd  weapon  ;  freely  urg'd 

The  cool  aperient  from  the  fragrant  bark 

Of  Sassafras  ;6   or  fresh  with  balmy  dews 

Cropp'd  the  fair  bloom  with  which  young  Spring  adorns 

The  flow'ring  Cornus.7     Anxiously  they  sought 

The  Liriodendron,8  with  its  varied  bloom,  270 

Orange,  and  green,  and  gold  ;  invok'd  the  pow'r 

Of  sanguine  Cornus,9  with  its  snowy  cup, 

And  sapphire  drupe  ;  or  woo'd  thy  potent  spell, 

Magnolia  Grandiflora  ;10  to  supply 

The  place  of  fam'd  Cinchona,  whose  rough  brow 

Now  ruddy,  and  anon  with  paleness  mark'd, 

Drinks  in  its  native  bed,  the  genial  gales 

Of  mountainous  Peru.     Debility, 

Melting  the  links  of  Thought,  and  blotting  out 

Life's  purposes,  beheld  the  nerves  resume  280 

Their  wonted  energy,  when  the  pure  blood 

Of  Liquidambar11  trickling,  or  the  pores 

Of  the  balsamic  Populus,12  diffus'd 

Their  cheering  tonic. 

That  unpitying  pain 

Which  plucks  the  nerves,  close-sealing  with  a  frown 
Ev'n  Beauty's  lip,  which  the  bold  Ayrshire  bard 
Wish'd  in  his  patriot  vengeance  to  entail 


102 

On  Caledonia's  foes,1 3  yielded  its  rage 

To  the  rough  genius  of  that  lofty  tree, 

Whose  yellow  armour  bears  in  countless  studs         290 

The  horrid  thorn.14     Swoln  Dropsy,  who  essays 

To  inundate  life's  citadel,  beheld, 

As  haughty  Ocean  marks  his  bound  of  sand, 

A  verdant  barrier  of  fresh-gather' d  leaves, 

Cull'd  from  an  acrid  plant15  and  slow  retir'd, 

Like  the  vex'd  spring-flood  from  the  wasted  earth. 

Pleased  with  their  toil,  the  healers  sought  the  cell, 

Where  Rhododendron,16  like  some  drooping  maid, 

Timid  and  beauteous,  hides  her  golden  locks  ; 

Or  lur'd  her  statelier  sister's  aid,  to  bribe  300 

Relentless  Chronic  Rheumatism17  to  loose 

The  rigid  sinew.     Then  the  fetter'd  wretch 

Strait  leap'd  and  walk'd,  as  he  who  ask'd  an  alms 

Of  the  two  chief  disciples,  while  he  sat 

A  lonely  cripple  at  that  temple  gate, 

Styl'd  "Beautiful." 

How  vivid  is  the  eye 
Of  bright  Lobelia,  in  her  scarlet  robe,18 
Yet  'neath  that  rich  and  velvet  tissue  lurks 
A  potent  poison.     But  the  holy  art 
Of  Esculapius,  can  transmute  the  bane  310 


103 

Of  Nature,  to  her  cordial ;  from  the  breath 

Of  livid  popies,  woo  the  balm  of  pain, 

The  opiate  of  grief;  in  Earth's  dark  breast 

Convert  the  foes  of  life  to  friends,  and  bind 

Reluctant  Hydra's  to  Hygeia's  car. 

Thus,  with  bold  hand,  compelling  the  proud  force 

Of  deadly  Hellebore,19  the  sons  of  Greece 

Propp'd  Reason  on  her  throne  ;  and  thus  that  Voice, 

Which  in  its  majesty  from  Chaos  call'd 

Order  and  beauty,  still  in  sable  clouds  320 

Pavilion's  Mercy,  bids  the  broad-wing'd  storm 

Disperse  dire  Pestilence,  and  those  events 

Which  Man  deems  evil,  w:>rk  his  endless  good. 

Intent  to  sooth  the  restlessness  of  pain, 

Still  roam'd  the  weaker  sex.     In  humid  beds, 

Or  'neath  dense  canopies  of  shade,  they  sought 

Where  the  May-apple20  loads  the  pendant  bough 

With  emerald  clusters ;  where  th'  Asclepias2  J  bows 

Her  bright,  decumbent  petals  ;  where  entwin'd 

With  parasitic  clasp,  embow'ring  blooms  330 

The  fair  Convolvulus,22  gleaming  with  tints 

Of  purple  lustre;  or  the  Cassia23  shoots 

Its  aromatic  stem,  and  slender  leaf, 

With  silver  lin'd.     Oft  raising  from  the  earth 


104 

Her  verdant  curtain,  joyous  they  descry'd 

That  sinuous  root,  which  blind  Credulity 

Hail'd  as  a  shield  against  the  serpent's  fang, 

But  Truth  enrolls  amid  her  precious  spells 

For  wan  Disease  ;S4  or  to  its  rocky  home 

Lur'd  by  a  purple  ensign,  like  the  tinge  340 

Of  the  pure  amethyst,  detected  oft 

The  hidden  Fever-root  ;25 or  dext'rous  pierc'd 

The  Ginseng's  cavern,26  where  like  hermit  grave, 

Abjuring  Man,  yet  bearing  to  his  cell 

Some  lingering  earthly  vanity,  it  rears 

Its  simple  umbel,  lucid  as  the  down 

Of  the  young  cygnet,  and  anon  displays 

In  brilliant  clusters,  rich  with  vermil  dies, 

Its  heart-shap'd  berries.     Lull'd  by  murm'ring  sounds 

Of  whispering  brook,  or  softly  gliding  stream,  350 

The  Iris,27  'lumining  her  damp  alcove 

With  bright,  prismatic  lustre*,  to  their  will 

Resign'd  her  rainbow  lamp  ;  and  that  tall  plant2  8 

Whose  flow'r  and  budding  leaf  together  spring 

Yielded  its  pliant  vest,  offering  at  once 

In  tribute,  both  its  spirit  and  its  robe  ; 

Ev'n  as  the  rein-deer  consecrates  to  man 

The  uses  of  his  life,  and  then  bequeaths 


105 

His  very  sinews.     Changeless  as  the  front 

Of  Virtue,  to  the  world's  adversity,  360 

The  firm  Cassine,29  endures  the  wrecking  storm, 

And  changeful  season,  by  Tradition  styl'd 

The  boon  of  Heaven,  and  round  Hygeia's  fane 

Wreaths  a  bright  garland,  when  her  priestesses 

Clad  in  their  meek  and  unpretending  skill 

Its  aid  demand.     They  boasted  to  allay 

The  venom  of  the  crested  snake,  who  moves 

Slow  through  the  thicket,  with  a  dazzling  eye 

Fix'd  on  his  prey,  or  in  a  sudden  coil 

Involves  the  victim,  or  beneath  the  flow'rs  370 

Winds  treacherous,  to  infix  with  barbed  tongue 

The  traveller's  foot. 

But  ah  !  what  art  might  heal 

Their  country's  wound  ?     Did  wild,  or  rugged  heath 
Or  forest,  where  dim  Twilight  ever  reigns, 
Vale  rock-emboss'd,  or  root-inwove  morass, 
Or  streamlet's  marge,  or  mountain  cliff  conceal 
No  holy  plant,  whose  essence  might  sustain 
The  daughter  of  their  people  ?     She  was  pierc'd 
With  deadly  poison  from  the  serpent's  fang,  380 

But  for  her  sickness,  "  Gilead  had  no  balm. 
Had  no  physician," 


106 

Slow  with  deep'ning  gloom. 
Age  roll'd  o'er  age,  and  every  bitter  year 
Smote  with  its  wintry  frost  some  plant  of  hope, 
Which  the  poor  Indian  cherish'd.     Still  he  nurs'd 
Unchill'd,  uncheck'd,  amid  the  tempest's  ire 
His  native  eloquence.     Like  the  wild  flame 
Of  some  red  meteor,  o'er  the  howling  storm 
It  flash'd,  gilding  the  dark  skirts  of  the  cloud 
Which  curtain'd  midnight.     Awfully  it  shone 
Into  the  soul  of  Logan,  as  he  wept  390 

That  of  his  race,  cold  Treachery  had  spar'd 
Not  one  to  mourn  for  him  ;  its  lambent  spire 
Play'd  round  the  temples,  and  the  hoary  locks 
Of  old  Shenandoah,30  as  alone  he  stood 
Like  the  bare  hemlock  of  a  hundred  years, 
Wither'd,  but  not  destroyed  ;  its  darting  ray 
Flash'd  from  the  eye  of  Corn-Plant,  as  he  spread 
The  black'ning  transcript  of  his  nation's  wrongs 
Before  great  Washington. 

-f-#-"  Thou,31  at  whose  name 

Our  kindling  warriors  for  the  battle  arm,  400 

Our  women  tremble,  and  our  frighted  babes 
Cling  to  their  mothers,  yet  whose  generous  heart 
Still  kind  and  pitiful,  has  mov'd  our  tribes 


107 

To  call  thee  father,  to  thine  ear  once  more 
Our  Chiefs  appeal. 

"  They  come  not  in  base  fear, 
Who  dread  nor  toil,  nor  danger ;  but  they  seek 
Peace  for  their  people.     Corn-Plant  hath  desir'd 
To  guard  the  tree  of  peace,  and  as  he  pour'd 
Fresh  dew  upon  its  roots,  his  arm  hath  striv'n 
With  his  own  nation.     For  in  wrath,  they  ask          410 
Continually,      '  Tell  us  !   where  is  that  land 

On  which  our  children,  and  our  children's  babes 

>•*-  ~T- 

Shall  rest  in  peace  ?     Said  ye  not,  that  a  line   ^ — . — 

Drawn  from  Ontario,  to  the  purchas'd  bound 
Of  Pennsylvania,  should  forever  mark 
Its  eastern  limit  ?     And  whoever  past 
West  of  the  Beaver  Creek,  would  set  his  foot 

\  j^r 

Upon  our  land  1 )  Why  then,  do  white  men  come 
And  take  it  from  us  ?,  ^Why  do  our  bold  Chiefs    ^> — 
Look  on,  with  folded  arms,  then  turn  away  ?  420 

They,  who  had  sworn  to  keep  it  for  our  sons, 
Secure  forever !' 

" What  shall  Corn-Plant  urge 

To  this  unhappy  race  ?  His  little  store 
He  has  imparted  to  those  wretched  men 
Whom  yours  have  plunder'd,  and  unpitying  left 


108 

Without  a  garment.     All  his  wealth  is  gone. 

Yet  they  remain  unsatisfied.     His  heart 

Shudders  to  think,  that  when  enraged  they  rise 

To  vengeance,  their  unsparing  hand  will  whelm 

Both  Innocence  and  Guilt.     The  flow'ry  Spring,     430 

And  fav'ring  Summer,  while  his  brethren  till'd 

The  bounteous  Earth,  he  spent  in  fruitless  toil, 

Labouring  for  peace.     The  Autumn  now  is  past, 

But  Corn-Plant  hath  no  harvest.     Sad  he  sees 

His  famish'd  wife,  and  hears  the  thrilling  voice 

Of  his  young  children,  asking  him  for  bread, 

When  he  has  none  to  give.     His  soul  is  wrung 

With  agony  for  them.     D,eep  sighs  he  breathes 

To  the  Great  Spirit,32  when  the  Sun  declines, 

And  ere  his  first  ray  lights  the  trembling  Morn,        440 

He  renders  praise  that  he  has  been  preserved 

Through  Night's  long  watches,  from  the  restless  rage 

Of  his  own  people.     For  they  frowning  mark 

The  White  Man's  friend  ;  and  'mid  a  blinded  race, 

Frantic  with  injuries,  he  knows  no  pow'r 

Can  guard  him,  but  his  God. 

"  Yet  there  -are  wrongs 

Heap'd  on  his  nation,  which  his  struggling  soul 
But  ill  can  bear.     Our  noblest  blood  is  shed 


109 

By  menial  hands.     Our  Chiefs  and  warriors  fall, 

Fall  unprovok'd,  and  in  their  crimson  beds  450 

Sleep  unaveng'd.     The  haughty  murderer  stalks 

From  his  dark  deed,  unpunish'd  passes  on, 

And  finds  protection.     From  the  earth,  a  voice 

Demands  our  vengeance.     That  you  have  a  law, 

Dooming  the  man,  who  sheds  his  brother's  blood, 

We  know.     But  are  we,  Senecas,  alone 

Cast  out  from  justice  ?     May  the  restless  swords 

Of  all  malignant  rovers  drink  our  blood, 

And  yet  be  blameless  ?     Shall  the  murderer  find 

A  refuge  in  your  arms,  when  our  own  law  460 

Sanctions  the  swift  avenger  to  pursue, 

And  recompense  the  deed  ?     Father  !  to  us, 

These  are  great  things.     That  you  'are  strong,  we  know ; 

That  you  are  wise,  we  hear  ;  but  we  must  wait 

Till  you  have  answered  this,  before  we  say 

That  you  WQJust" 

When  rising  cities  shone 

In  wealth  and  splendour,  the  poor  natives  rov'd 
Around  their  bounds,  amaz'd.     Fall'n  Pride,  represt 
The  words  of  admiration ;  but  strange  awe, 
Slavish  degeneracy,  and  the  dark  frown  470 

Of  banish'd  men,  sat  heavier  on  their  brow. 
10 


110 

Once,  to  the  mart  which  favouring  Commerce  rear'd 
On  fair  Manhattan,  their  sad  Chiefs  repair'd 
To  seek  an  audience.     From  a  tow'ring  height 
They  mark'd  the  goodly  prospect.33     Lofty  spires, 
Vast  domes,  delightful  villas,  clust'ring  roofs, 
Streets,  where  the  countless  throng  incessant  pour'd, 
As  pleasure,  pomp,  or  business  mov'd  their  tides 
In  murmuring  fluctuation  ;  distant  dales, 
Slumbering  in  verdure  ;  the  majestic  flood,  480 

Crown'd  with  tall  masts,  and  white  with  snowy  sails, 
Thoughtful  they  view'd.     Unrnov'd,  the  men  of  wealth, 
Who  mark'd  their  own  possessions,  lightly  ask'd, 
"  Why  are  ye  sad  ?"     as  once  Chaldea's  bands 
Inquir'd  of  wasted  Judah,  where  their  mirth 
And  songs  had  vanish'd,  when  their  unstrung  harps 
Hung  on  the  willows,  and  their  exil'd  feet 
Roam'd  in  captivity. 

To  them  replied 

The  elder  Chief:  "We  bear  upon  our  minds 

Past  times,  and  other  days.     This  beauteous  land   490 

Was  once  our  fathers'.     Here,  in  peace  they  dwelt ; 

For  the  Great  Spirit  gave  it  as  a  gift 

To  them,  and  to  their  sons.     But  to  this  shore 

Once  came  a  vast  canoe,  which  white  men  steer'd 

Feebly,  against  the  blast. 


Ill 

Driv'n  by  rude  storms, 

They  sought  permission  on  our  coast  to  land, 
And  how  could  we  refuse  ?     Their  sick,  they  brought, 
And  in  our  soft  shades,  fann'd  by  gentle  gales, 
Laid  them,  and  they  reviv'd.     But  wintry  winds 
Soon  swept  the  waste,  and  humbly  they  besought     500 
Leave  to  erect  a  wigwam,  while  the  frost 
And  snows  were  raging.     Could  our  hearts  refuse 
The  stranger  shelter  ?  to  our  Chiefs  they  said 
With  solemn  words,  that  when  the  soft'ning  spring 
Dissolved  the  wrath  of  winter,  they  would  seek 
Their  distant  homes,  and  leave  us  to  ourselves ; 
And  we  were  satisfied.     With  pitying  eye 
Their  wasted  frames  we  saw,  by  Famine  srnit; 
We  gave  them  corn,  and  fed  them.      When  fair   spring 
Shone  sweetly  on  the  budding  earth,  we  claim'd      510 
Their  promise  to  depart.     But  they  had  rear'd 
Strange  iron  ramparts,  which  at  their  command 
Breath'd  flame  and  death.     Pointing  to  these,  they  said 
<£  We  will  not !"   and  indignantly  they  glanc'd 
Defiance  on  us.     Other  bands  arriv'd 
Strengthening  their  purpose.     Mad,  enticing  draughts 
Deceitfully  they  gave  us,  till  the  cup 
Reft  us  of  reason.     Then  they  forc'd  us  back 


112 

From  field  to  field,  from  forest,  and  from  flood, 

Where  our  subsistence  lay.     And  you,  their  sons,     529 

Still  drive  us  onward.     You  enjoy  the  land 

Of  luxury  ;  while  we,  wasted  and  scorn'd, 

Herd  in  the  wilderness.     But  ye  will  cease 

Ere  long  to  press  us,  for  our  fading  race 

Will  cease  to  be.     Think  ye,  that  we  can  view 

These  beauteous  shores,  and  yon  proud  swelling  flood, 

And  not  remember  that  they  once  were  ours  ? 

And  thus  rememb'ring.  need  ye  wond'ring  ask 

Why  sorrow  clothes  our  brow  ?" 

Full  many  a  strain 

Of  native  eloquence,34  simple  and  wild,  530 

Has  ris'n  in  our  dark  forests,  which  the  winds 
Unheeded,  swept  away.     Yet,  had  it  broke 
From  bold  Demosthenes,  when  Athens  fear'd 
The  distant  step  of  Philip,  had  it  burst 
From  the  impetuous  Hannibal,  when  Rome 
Muster'd  at  Zama — it  had  been  enrolled 
In  History's  choicest  annal,  the  pure  eye 
Of  Taste  had  trickled  o'er  it,  and  the  lip 
Of  the  young  student,  had  been  proud  to  pour 
Its  treasur'd  pathos.     But  thy  slighted  words,  540 

Untutor'd  Red  Man  ! — Ah  !  how  few  will  trace 


113 

Their  chronicle  obscure,  and  fewer  still 

Accord  the  meed  of  just  applause,  unmix'tl 

With  scorn  upon  thy  nation.     Lofty,  firm 

And  high  soul'd  honour,  mocking  at  the  pain 

Which  wastes  the  body,  once  thy  sires  could  boast, 

Such  as  in  Rome,  amid  her  better  days, 

Had  been  exalted.     That  indignant  warmth 

Which  nerv'd  Lucretia's  arm,  which  urg'd  the  sword 

Of  the  unshrinking  Arria,  fir'd  the  breast  550 

Of  Oolaita.35     Where  dark  Pepin's  lake 

Spread  its  bold  bosom  to  the  ruffian  winds, 

Her  father's  cabin  rose.     Grave,  ancient  men, 

Would  oft  with  envious  eye  regard  the  Chief 

Who  boasted  such  a  daughter ;  for  the  charms 

Which  in  their  simple  thought  were  beauty,  lurk'd 

And  revell'd  round  her  youth. 

From  her  calm  eye 

Beam'd  a  dark  majesty,  that  well  beseem'd 
A  Chieftain's  daughter,  though  her  willing  hand 
Slighted  no  labour,  which  their  customs  rude  560 

Impos'd  on  woman.     In  her  garden's  bound, 
Among  the  plants,  and  clust'ring  herbs,  she  wrought, 
With  skilful  industry  ;  her  raven  locks 
Wreath'd  round  her  temples,  the  ripe  corn  she  bruis'd 
10* 


114 

For  the  returning  hunters ;  o'er  the  wave 

Guided  the  light  canoe  ;  and  when  she  rose 

To  shun  the  angle  of  some  pointed  rock, 

With  dext'rous  oar,  her  graceful  form  display'd 

Erect  proportion,  dignified,  and  firm, 

Rounded  with  female  softness.     One  dark  eye         570 

Still  watch'd  her  course,  and  if  a  billow  spoke 

The  waking  tempest's  wrath,  with  lightning  speed 

Impatient  darted  to  the  maiden's  aid, 

Young  Arionto.     He,  with  vigorous  arm 

Could  quell  the  angry  waters,  up  the  steep 

Whose  trackless  summit  mock'd  the  mountain  goat. 

Press  with  unbending  breast.     In  war,  his  soul 

Shone  like  the  veteran's  through  his  kindling  eye, 

Undaunted  and  exulting  :  in  the  chace 

His  tireless  foot  rivall'd  the  bounding  deer  580 

Whose  fall  reveal'd  his  arrow-flight.     Fair  birds 

Of  downy  breast,  and  rainbow  plume  he  brought. 

As  trophies  to  his  love,  and  his  high  heart 

Had  leap'd  to  hear  that  maiden's  gentle  voice 

Say  timorously,  that  his  hand  alone 

Should  bring  her  ven'son,  and  his  cabin  be 

The  shelter  of  her  life. 


115 

But  frowns  severe 

Mantled  her  Father's  brow,  and  her  heart  shrunk 
To  read  their  purport.     Ever  to  his  home, 
With  friendly  hand,  and  fav'ring  tone  he  led  590 

The  grave  Omaldi,  held  in  high  renown 
For  valour  and  for  wisdom.     Time  had  strewn 
A  tinge  of  silver  lightly  o'er  his  brow, 
And  temper'd  Manhood's  daring,  with  the  cast 
Of  sage,  serene  Experience.     He  had  said 
"  Give  me  thy  daughter,  and  between  our  tribes 
There  shall  be  peace." 

The  maiden  saw  her  fate, 
For  from  the  sacred  mandate  of  a  sire 
Was  no  appeal.     Young  Arionto  dwelt 
With  sadness ;  where  black  shades  expell'd  the  day 
He  made  his  cavern,  as  the  stricken  deer  601 

Shuns  his  companions.     Oolaita's  eye 
Confess'd  no  tear-drop,  though  its  lustre  fled. 
Throughout  the  weary  day,  no  bitter  sigh 
Burst  from  her  bosom,  and  thro'  length'ning  nights 
Sleepless  she  prest  her  pillow,  yet  complain'd  not. 
There  was  an  awful  silence  on  the  soul 
Of  that  devoted  maiden,  which  an  eye 
Studious  of  Nature's  more  mysterious  springs 


116 

Might  fearfully  interpret.     Now  the  day  610 

Of  sacrifice  approach'd  ;  the  bridal  feast 

Cheer'd  with  its  simple  meriment,  the  cell 

That  gave  her  birth.     But  from  that  joyous  scene 

The  maiden  stole,  and  secretly  attain'd 

A  tow'ring  precipice,  whose  beetling  front 

O'erhung  the  lake. 

It  was  an  awful  height 

For  dizzy  Fear  to  contemplate.     There  stood 
The  unmov'd  maiden  ;     her  thin,  bridal  robe 
And  raven  tresses  floating  on  the  wind, 
While  her  fix'd  glance  explor'd  th'  unfathom'd  tide  620 
Darkening  around  its  base.     "I  come  !"  she  cry'd, 
"  The  bride  of  those  dark  waters  ;  true  in  death 
To  Arionto."— From  the  frightful  cliff 
She  vanish'd  !  its  abrupt,  irregular  mass 
Dazzled  one  moment  with  a  flitting  robe, 
A  heavy  plunge  was  heard,  yet  nought  was  seen, 
Save  one  red  ripple,  where  the  shaded  lake 
Fiow'd  on,  in  ebon  stillness.     High-soul'd  Maid  ! 
There  didst  thou  perish.     From  Leucates'  rock, 
Sappho  might  rush,  a  coward  to  the  pangs  630 

Of  disappointed  love,  and  be  enshrin'd 
In  Fame's  proud  temple,  but  thou,  martyr  firm, 


117 

So  nobly  constant  to  thy  virgin  vow, 
In  the  abyss  of  Pepin's  lonely  lake, 
May'st  plunge,  and  be  forgotten. 

Driven  back 

From  wild  to  wild,  the  natives  yield,  and  sink 
In  cold  oblivion.     We,  who  ought  to  weep 
O'er  their  deep  woes,  and  send  a  cordial  balm 
To  heal  the  wounds,  made  by  our  fathers'  swords, 
Lift  up  the  hand  against  them,  stain  our  page  640 

Not  with  their  wrongs,  but  with  their  dark  reproach 
Industriously  sought.     We  teach  our  babes 
Not  to  lisp  prayers  for  them,  but  join  their  names 
With  baseness,  treachery,  and  the  shuddering 
Of  dread  disgust.     We  take  away  their  food, 
Their  hunting  forests,  and  their  broad  lakes  throng'd 
With  scaly  tribes.     Their  meagre  forms  we  see 
Withering  with  famine,  and  to  their  parch'd  lips 
Hold  that  enchanted  cup,  whose  fearful  dregs 
Like  those  of  Circe,  change  the  form  erect,  650 

To  grov'lling  beastliness.     How  can  he  stand, 
Unnurtur'd  Savage  !  'gainst  that  potent  spell, 
Which  baffles  prudence,  steals  from  pride  its  plume, 
Enthralls  the  wise,  and  lays  the  mighty  low, 
Ev'n  of  our  race.     Th'  untutor'd  Indian  drinks. 


118 

Drinks,  and  is  stupified,  while  we  deride 

And  point  him  out;  like  the  stern,  Spartan  lords, 

Who  gave  their  vassals  the  enticing  draught, 

Then  call'd  their  children  to  despise,  and  say 

"Behold!  the  slaves  are  drunken."     We  prepare    660 

A  dry  and  thirsty  soil  by  harrowing  wrongs, 

And  the  poor  Red  Man  sets  it  with  strange  slips, 

And  roots  of  bitterness.     Much  we  condemn 

His  mode  of  warfare.     Thoughtless  censors  oft 

Sneering  exclaim,  "  How  cowardly  to  hide 

In  the  dark  thicket,  or  from  sheltering  trees 

Aim  at  the  foe."     Why  are  the  palisade, 

Rampart,  and  bastion  rear'd  for  the  defence 

Of  modern  valour  ?     Does  it  raise  a  blush 

On  the  bold  cheek  of  Discipline,  to  say  670 

Its  principle  is  to  annoy  the  foe 

And  keep  itself  unhurt?     Why  is  it  base 

To  choose  a  spreading  tree,  more  than  to  stand 

Behind  a  parapet?     The  Soldier  vers'd 

In  all  the  "  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war," 

Seeks  the  close  fortress,  and  we  praise  his  skill  : 

The  native,  from  the  thicket  lifts  his  bow, 

And  we  decry  the  savage.     Thirst  of  blood, 

The  dark  offence,  we  tolerate  ;  but  cry 


119 

Wo  to  the  wandering  slave,  if  by  his  hand  680 

Th'  offence  shall  come.     Why  ?  Ask  the  heart  within  ; 
And  let  us  judge  impartially,  as  those 
Who  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  may  meet 
Judgment  themselves. 

But  still  we  say,  how  vile 
The  skulking  Indian,  in  his  ambush  laid ! 
How  are  such  stratagems  despisM  by  those 
Who  feel  the  thirst  of  glory,  and  are  mov'd 
By  nobleness  of  soul,  to  the  dread  field 
Of  mortal  combat. 

Turn  the  storied  page, 

Retrace  the  scenes  when  Italy  shrunk  back,  690 

Amaz'd  to  see  the  proud  Alps  pour  a  train 
Of  warriors  from  the  clouds.     Whose  martial  skill 
Spread  his  strong  force  in  secret  ambuscade, 
And  ere  the  foe  was  ready,  starting  up, 
Surpriz'd  his  legions  ?     Who  the  green  earth  stain'd 
With  sudden  slaughter?  and  with  corses  chok'd 
Thrasymene's  reddening  lake  ? 

Oh  !  this  we  say 

Was  Hannibal,  the  generous,  and  the  brave  ; 
Give  him  the  meed  of  valour,  age  o'er  age 
May  roll,  but  not  impair  his  deathless  fame.  700 


120 

Survey  the  seige  of  Veil,  through  the  mist 

Of  gathering  years.     Ev'n  now  her  temples  seem 

To  glitter  on  the  eye,  her  olive  groves 

To  woo  the  breeze,  and  her  aspiring  walls 

To  smile  derision£m  those  weary  bands 

Who  for  ten  years,  with  all  the  arts  of  war 

Vainly  invest  them.     But  why  heaves  the  Earth  ? 

Why  from  her  unsuspecting  bosom  spring 

Men,  clad  in  steel  ?     who  on  their  weapons  bear 

Havoc  and  death  ?     Are  these  the  hosts  of  Rome  !  710 

With  soaring  helmets,  mining  like  the  mole, 

And  in  their  serpentine,  and  secret  path 

Creeping,  as  the  dark  robber  prowls,  to  snatch 

Some  long-mark' d  hoard,  until  they  listening  hear 

Above  their  heads,  the  mingling,  murm'ring  sounds 

Of  the  unconscious  Citadel  ?     Are  these 

The  boasted  heroes  !  who  with  sudden  strokes 

Pierce  her  unguarded  heart,  and  line  her  streets 

With  her  dead  children,  slain  amid  their  mirth  ? 

This  was  Camillus  !  And  what  heart  may  doubt       720 

The  greatness  of  the,Roman  ? 

O'er  the  tow'rs 

Of  lofty  Ilion,  wreck' d  by  Grecian  wiles, 
Why  does  the  dazzled  eye  prolong  its  gaze 


121 


In  breathless  interest,  yet  avert  its  glance, 

Disgusted,  and  indignant,  at  the  scenes 

Of  Indian  stratagem  ?     The  pomp  of  names, 

The  pride  of  princes,  the  time-sanction'd  meed 

Of  admiration,  the  majestic  lay 

Of  the  great  master  of  the  epic  lyre 

Infold  in  robes  of  flaming  awe,  the  deed  ;  730 

Yet  Fraud  is  still  the  same. 

But  that  pure  Eye 

Which  searcheth  spirits,  that  just  Hand  which  holds 
The  balance  of  the  sanctu'ry,  will  judge 
Us  all  at  last.      And  when  the  garniture 
Of  frail  mortality  hath  fed  the  flame, 
How  will  the  motives  of  offensive  war 
Endure  his  righteous  ordeal.     Wrath  !  Revenge ! 
Ambition  !  Hatred  !  Guilty  thirst  of  blood  ! 
How  will  they  differ  in  the  forest  Chief, 
And  him  ofMacedon?     Oh!  how  will  they  740 

So  deified  on  Earth,  sustain  the  doom, 
"  Weigh'd,  and  found  wanting  I" 

Still  we  boldly  say, 

The  Indian  cruelty,  untam'd  and  fierce, 
Can  find  no  parallel,  in  any  age, 
11 


122 

Or  any  nation.     This  strong  charge  is  brought, 

And  they  deny  it  not.     What  page  have  they, 

Or  what  historic  pen  to  palliate, 

To  justify  or  blazon  ?     To  the  lists 

We  dare  the  unarm'd,  and  conquer  them  at  once. 

We  cite  them  to  their  trial,  where  they  stand  750 

Silent  and  we  condemn.     But  would  some  friend, 

Some  advocate,  who  loves  to  right  the  oppress'd, 

Like  Clarkson,  or  like  Wilberforce,  arise 

And  tell  these  aliens,  of  the  Spartan  lords 

Who  deck'd  with  garlands,  and  with  freedom's  robe 

Thousands  of  home-born  slaves,  and  ere  the  Sun 

Rose  on  the  joyous  train,  destroy'd  them  all 

With  horrid  treachery  ;  or  of  Persia's  king 

The  fratricide,  Cambyses,  o'er  the  tovnb 

Of  Egypt's  monarch,  mocking ;  of  the  pride  760 

Of  brutal  Xerxes,  rising  from  the  board 

Of  hoary  Pythias,  to  destroy  his  sons 

Before  his  eyes,  and  o'er  their  mangled  limbs 

March  all  his  troops  ;  or  of  Sicilian  hate, 

That  when  the  faint  Athenians  bowing  sought 

With  parched  tongues,  the  cool,  restoring  stream, 

Butcher'd  them  with  the  water  on  their  lips, 

That  quench'd  their  battle  thirst;  of  the  sad  throng 


123 

In  Syracusan  prisons,  scorch'd  by  day 

With  burning  heat,  shiv'ring  and  chill  at  night,          770 

Uncover'd,  and  emaciate,  and  unfed, 

Save  by  a  scanty  pittance,  to  sustain 

Life  for  its  lingering  torments ;  of  the  deeds 

Of  murderous  Sylla  ;  of  the  furious  wrath 

OfDionysius;  of  the  fiend-like  sports 

Of  Caligula,  when  his  subjects'  limbs 

Were  mangled,  and  struck  off,  that  he  might  laugh 

And  find  amusement  in  the  writhing  pain 

Of  dying  men  ;  of  Nero,  who  devis'd 

Tortures  for  his  own  Romans,  op'd  the  veins  780 

Of  calm  philosophers,  to  see  them  bear 

The  last  chill  ague,  lighted  up  the  fires 

With  wretched  Christians,  wrapt  in  robes  of  pitch, 

To  serve  as  blazing  torches  through  the  night 

For  scoffing  Rome — Oh  !  had  the  Indians  heard 

Of  deeds  like  these,  they  would  reject  the  charge, 

That  they  alone,  above  all  men,  were  stain'd 

With  dark  barbarity.     Say  !  could  they  learn 

Aught  merciful  from  those,  whose  impious  hands 

Stretch'd  out  before  their  eye,  on  burning  coals,        790 

Firm  Guatamozin,  the  once  happy  prince 

Of  Mexico — who  through  the  echoing  wilds 


124 

Hunted  the  flying  natives  with  their  dogs 
Train'd  to  the  scent  of  blood  ? 

Those  forest  sons 

Taught  from  their  youth,  to  twine  the  vengeful  creed 
With  the  soul's  honour,  shrink  not  to  demand 
Sternly,  like  ancient  Israel,  eye  for  eye, 
And  life  for  life.     Their  rash,  misguided  hands 
Rais'd  for  retaliation,  in  blind  wrath 
And  ignorance,  with  no  controuling  force  800 

Of  heav'n-taught  precept,  oft  are  deeply  stain'd 
With  cruelty.     But  how  shall  we  excuse 
The  deeds  of  favour' d  Christians  ?     those  who  hear 
And  promise  to  obey  that  law  of  love, 
Whose  precepts  bind  its  votary  not  to  hate, 
Or  persecute,  but  render  the  meek  pray'r 
And  patient  deed  of  mercy  ! 

What  can  shield 

The  dark  ferocity  of  papal  Rome, 
At  first  so  lamb-like,  but  so  soon  transforrn'd 
To  a  devouring  monster,  mad  with  blood,  810 

Driving  to  dens,  and  caves,  and  rocky  cliffs 
Of  pitying  Piedmont,  a  defenceless  band 
Call'd  by  that  Saviour's  name,  whom  she  profess' d 
To  worship  and  adore  !     Has  earth  a  cell, 


125 

In  her  deep  centre,  dark  enough  to  hide 

The  racks,  the  tortures,  and  the  streaming  blood 

Of  the  dire  Inquisition  ?     What  pure  stream, 

Or  sprinkling  priest,  or  holy  mass  can  cleanse 

The  guilty  Bastile  ?  where  Despair  detain'd 

The  wretched  captives,  till  their  wasted  forms  820 

Became  as  cold,  and  rigid  as  the  stone 

That  bound  their  prisons  !     What  melodious  voice 

Can  hush  the  death-groans  of  the  Cambrian  bards, 

Thy  prey,  stern  Edward  !  slain  with  their  meek  hands 

Prest  on  their  harps,  and  pouring  in  sweet  strains 

The  simple  music  of  their  native  vales, 

Thoughtless  of  ill  ? 

Where  is  a  veil  to  spread 
O'er  the  red  visage,  and  the  spotted  robes 
Of  France,  wild  rushing  thro'  the  frantic  scenes 
Of  revolution,  steeping  o'er  and  o'er  830 

Her  clotted  tresses,  in  the  blood  of  kings. 
Singing  discordant  madrigals,  to  drown 
The  death-shrieks  of  her  sons,  or  hasting  on 
To  plant  her  reeking  standards  o'er  the  walls 
Of  trembling,  bleeding  Germany. 

And  thou, 
My  Country  !    what  has  thy  example  been  ? 


126 

Thou,  who  hast  sometimes  sent  thy  men  of  peace, 
To  warn  the  savage  of  His  holy  will, 
Who  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  ways  of  wrath, 
Revenge,  or  cruelty  ?  S40 

The  answer  speeds 

On  the  wild  winds  which  rais'd  red  clouds  of  flame, 

In  awful  volumes  from  the  peaceful  roofs 

Of  sad  Muskingum  ;36  in  deep  tones  it  sighs 

From  those  who  visit  the  deserted  bounds 

Of  the  slain  Creeks  ;  3  7  and  from  the  troubled  grave 

Of  Malaanthee,  s8  in  low,  hollow  sounds 

Murmuring  it  rises,  "  Lo  !  Behold  the  men 

Who  knew,  and  published  the  pure  word  of  peace, 

Yet  kept  it  not  !"39  Say,  did  the  spectre  form 

Of  Malaanthee,  break  no  nightly  dream,  850 

Ye  murd'rers  ?     Did  those  aged  features,  stern 

In  Death's  convulsion,  and  those  few,  grey  hairs 

Matted  with  blood,  ne'er  glare  through  midnight's  pall 

Before  your  straining  eyes,  till  ye  have  curst 

The  ghost,  that  seem'd  to  multiply  itself 

Where'er  ye  turn'd  ?      Amid  your  orgies  rude, 

Has  Earth  ne'er  yavvn'd  beneath  your  reeling  feet, 

And  from  the  chasm,  a  dead  arm  slowly  ris'n, 

Bearing  a  crimson  scroll  ?     That  scroll  ye  knew  I 


127 

And  once  the  signet  of  mild  peace  it  bore  ;  860 

Blaz'd  it  now  in  fiery  characters 

"  Heav'n's  Justice  ?"  Did  your  trembling  joints  unloose. 

And  smile  together,  like  that  impious  king 

Who,  'mid  his  revel,  in  mysterious  lines 

Saw  shudd'ring,  by  dismember'd  fingers  trac'd, 

His  hast'ning  doom  ? 

What  piercing  shrieks  of  woe, 

Break  from  those  bounds,  where  clustering  foliage  shades 
The  Chehaw  villages  !  40     A  moment  since, 
And  all  was  peace.     Those  simple,  lowly  cells, 
And  cultivated  gardens,  seem'd  the  abode  870 

Of  rural  happiness.     Now,  the  green  turf 
Where  spring  was  strewing  her  pure  blossoms,  reeks 
With  living  crimson.     On  the  furrow'd  field, 
Which  his  own  hands  were  planting,  sudden  falls 
The  unarm'd  father.     His  young  children  shriek 
Around  their  dwelling,  and  th'  unconscious  babes 
Cling  to  their  captive  mothers.     Angry  bands 
Urge  wide  the  work  of  death.     TirM  day  declines 
Yet  still  their  hands  unshrinking,  clench  the  sword, 
Reeking  in  gore.     The  hasty,  restless  night  880 

Sat  on  their  wrecks  unslumb'ring,  and  the  Sun 
Look'd  with  pale  glance  upon  the  sanguine  Morn, 


128 

Rousing  new  deeds  of  guilt.     Devouring  flames 

Involve  each  dwelling.     Blazing  columns  rise, 

Promiscuous,  glaring  o'er  the  lurid  sky. 

Wild  shouts  of  terror,  agonizing  flight, 

Unequal  conflict,  groans  of  gasping  death, 

Vary  the  awful  drama.     Wreaths  of  smoke 

Curtain  dim  Twilight,  and  affrighted  Eve 

Lighted  by  fury,  and  unnat'ral  lamps  890 

Sinks  on  her  couch.     Reluctant  rays  illume 

The  third  dark  day  ofhorrour.     Ruin  wrings 

Her  bitterest  dregs.     The  sword  is  cloy'd  with  blood, 

The  flames  are  famish'd  ;  the  scorch'd  foliage  droops 

Over  a  black  drear  desert,  and  no  voice 

Of  rustic  labour,  or  of  cheerful  song 

Survives.     O'er  calcin'd  ruins,  steep'd  in  gore, 

Stalks  Desolation  ;   while  no  sound  disturbs 

His  drear  dominion,  save  the  heavy  tramp 

Of  haughty  victors,  save  the  shrill  response  900 

Of  pipe,  and  drum,  and  clarion,  clamouring  loud, 

Triumphant  joy.     I  see  the  thronging  band 

Emerging  from  the  vale  ;  their  banners  float 

Amid  the  forest,  and  a  captive  train 

Helpless,  and  weeping,  follow. 


129 

Who  are  these, 

Red  from  the  bloody  wine-press,  with  its  stains 
Darkening  their  raiment  ?     Yet  I  dare  not  ask 
Their  clime  and  lineage,  lest  the  accusing  blasts, 
Waking  the  angry  echoes,  should  reply 
"  Thy  Countrymen  !"  910 


130 


As  when  long  ling'ring  on  some  lonely  cliff 

Of  stormy  Hebrid,  or  where  rocky  Hoy 

Heaves  with  unbanner'd  brow,  a  mighty  mass 

Like  tow'ring  pyramid,  whose  apex  gleams 

With  magic  lustre,  like  the  ancient  lance 

Of  some  Norse  chieftain,  summoning  the  force 

Of  scatter'd  Orcades ;  or  from  the  crest 

Of  dread  Ronaldi,  which  like  eaglet  proud 

Soars  o'er  North-Maven,  wreathing  round  his  crest 

Those  dazzling  sun-beams,  which  but  faintly  smile      10 

On  wintry  Zetland,  with  abstracted  gaze 

Some  anxious  wand'rer  eyes  the  tossing  main 

Lash'd  lay  a  recent  tempest,  and  descries 

The  frequent-floating  wreck,  and  swollen  corse 

Borne  on  the  angry  surge,  till  his  sad  heart 

Shuddering  within  his  tortur'd  bosom  loathes 

The  awful  prospect,  thus  my  spirit  shrinks 

From  scenes  of  cruelty  !     Cold  horror  creeps 

Over  my  sick'ning  frame,  and  my  dim  eye 


131 

Turns  from  the  glare  of  carnage,  turns  from  those      20 

Who  knew  the  law  of  mercy,  yet  effac'd 

Its  precepts  with  their  swords.     Once  more  it  seeks 

The  outcast  Indian,  who  hath  never  heard 

His  Saviour's  will. 

It  seeks,  but  he  is  gone  ! 

Like  the  light  vapour  trembling  o'er  the  lakes 

He  vanishes  !     No  more  his  fishing  line 

Breaks  the  fair  surface  of  thy  chrystal  breast, 

Ontario  !  nor  his  rapid  bark  descends 

The  rolling  Hudson.     Silent  is  the  shout 

Of  the  glad  hunter,  in  the  forest  shades  30 

Of  Susquehannah.    What  has  crush'd  the  pride 

Of  great  Potomac's  chieftain  ?     What  has  swept 

The  mighty  Mohawk,1  and  fierce  Delaware  2 

From  their  own  realms  ?     Why  is  thy  boundless  vale, 

Shenandoah,  tenantless  ?    Thy  silver  wave, 

Bold  Rappahannock,  why  does  it  reflect 

No  more,  those  dark  red  features  ? 

Hear  ye  not 

A  sighing  spirit  from  that  distant  bourn 
Whence  there  is  no  return,  as  if  the  winds 
Moan'd  deep  and  hollow  thro'  some  broken  arch        40 
With  mould'ring  moss  o'ergrown  ! 


132 

"  Oh!  ye  who  tread 
O'er  our  forgotten  ashes,  who  behold 
Our  sons  renounce  their  birthright,  and  forsake 
The  shade  of  buried  glory,  ye  have  reft 
Their  ancient  freedom,  can  ye  lead  their  souls 
To  liberty  and  light  ?     Their  heritage 
On  earth  ye  cancel ;  oh  !  provide  a  home 
In  future  worlds.     Life's  pilgrimage  to  them 
Is  darkness  ;  will  ye  lend  that  lamp  which  gilds 
The  vale  of  death  ?     To  them,  the  hand  of  Time        50 
Yields  but  the  cup  of  sorrow  ;  can  ye  guide 
To  a  sure  refuge  on  the  hastening  shores 
Of  dread  Eternity  ?" 

Behold  the  appeal 

Already  heeded  !     As  the  gleaming  bow 
Paints  its  soft  emerald  on  the  fading  storm. 
Presage  of  calmness,  thus  thro'  dusky  clouds 
A  heavenly  radiance  sheds  its  infant  beams, 
And  the  dark  desert  smiles.     Thine  eye  beheld 
Its  dawn,  meek  Eliot  !3  with  enraptur'd  glance 
Of  gratitude  intense,  as  mark'd  the  Seer  60 

From  Pisgah's  hallow'd  cliff,  the  glorious  scene 
Of  Israel's  heritage  ;  tho'  o'er  his  path 
The  sable  wings  of  Death's  dark  angel  wav'd 


133 

In  shadowy  gloom.     Like  that  blest  prototype, 

Thou  too  didst  strive  to  rend  the  tyrant  chain 

Of  heathen  bondage,  urge  the  chrystal  stream 

Forth  from  the  flinty  rock,  to  famish'd  souls 

Impart  the  bread  of  Heaven  ;  and  as  he  bade 

The  writhing  victims  of  the  scorpion  gaze 

On  their  mysterious  healer,  thou  didst  point  70 

The  eye  of  Satan's  miserable  prey 

Up  to  the  Crucified.     Thou  too  didst  give 

The  holy  tables  of  th'  eternal  Law, 

Not  with  the  awe  of  Sinai's  wrath  announc'd, 

Deep  earthquakes,  thund'ring  voices,  lightning's  flame 

Insufferable  ;  but  silver'dwith  the  tinge 

Of  the  mild  gospel's  brightness.     From  thy  brow 

Darted  no  beam  unearthly,  which  the  throng 

Dar'd  not  approach,  no  mandate  stern  proclaim'd 

"  This  do,  or  die  :"  but  thy  redeeming  scroll  80 

In  gentler  dispensation,  meekly  trac'd 

With  sacred  pen,4  inspired  the  message  kind, 

"  My  children,  love  each  other." 

Not  in  vain, 

Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  !  was  thy  toil, 
Nor  on  the  light  breath  of  the  erring  winds 
Thy  supplications  lost.     The  deep-drawn  sigh 
12 


134 

Of  thy  departing  soul5  rose  with  its  flight 

To  the  approving  Throne,  that  God  would  grant 

Thy  churches  in  the  wilderness  to  live, 

When  thou  wert  dead.     Then  other  pious  hearts       90 

Pitied  the  outcasts  ;  other  guides  appeared 

To  lead  the  shepherdless.     The  Mayhews  rose,6 

Clad  in  the  armour  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 

To  cope  with  the  proud  spirit  of  the  world, 

Thron'd  on  high  places.     The  poor  Indians  hail'd 

Their  holy  footsteps,  and  the  Island  vine 

Planted  by  them,  in  thick'ning  clusters  breath'd 

Salvation's  fragrance. 

Dying  Mitark7  blest 

Their  faithful  ministry,  when  his  spent  breath 
Welcom'd  that  messenger  which  bore  his  soul  100 

Where  Mercy,  higher  than  the  sinner's  hope, 
Prepares  his  mansion.     Nor  this  Prince  alone. 
Bore  witness  to  the  ardour  of  their  zeal ; 
Flocks  sought  their  fold,  and  from  the  tempest's  pow'r 
And  lion's  wrath,  found  shelter.     At  their  words. 
Reasoning  of  righteousness,  of  temperance, 
And  judgment-doom,  the  fount  of  penitence 
O'er  rugged  features  pour'd  a  tearful  tide8 
New  and  profuse.     Thus  gush'd  in  later  days, 


135 

In  rapid  course,  the  heart's  unwonted  stream,  110 

Washing  white  channels  down  the  dusky  cheeks 

Of  Cornwall's  collier  throng,  when  Whitfield's  voice 

With  daring  eloquence,  first  taught  the  soul 

To  startle  at  her  danger.     Thus  they  toil'd, 

In  happy  unison.     But  from  the  Sire 

The  Son  is  sever'd.     His  majestic  form 

Veil'd  in  dim  distance,  drooping  seems  to  pass 

'Neath  the  devouring  wave.9     With  hoary  locks 

Swept  by  the  winds,  the  lonely  father  roves, 

Pale,  in  suspended  Hope,  while  his  fix'd  eye  120 

Questions  th'  unanswering  surge.     But  faith  uplifts 

That  eye,  mild  whisp'ring  what  sustain'd  the  heart 

Of  Nazianzen's  sire,  "  Thy  son  hath  gone, 

To  take  possession  of  that  fair  estate 

Which  thou  hast  gain'd  in  Heaven." 

The  natives  wept 

O'er  their  kind  Prophets'  graves ;  but  the  wild  blast 
Rent  not  their  falling  mantle.     Others  wrapt 
Its  silvery  folds  around  them,  and  imbib'd 
Its  hidden  spirit.     Brainerd  woke  in  youth,10 
To  search  for  the  neglected,  and  to  lead  130 

The  wandering  blind.     His  self-devoting  zeal 
Shrunk  not  at  hardship,  at  the  withering  blast 


156 

Of  wan  Disease,  at  Disappointment's  frown, 

Nor  at  those  deeper  sorrows  which  depress 

The  mourning  soul,  when  thro'  impervious  gloom 

She  seeks  that  Everlasting  Friend,  who  seems 

To  have  forsaken  her.     Around  his  life 

Strong  bonds  by  friendship  and  by  love  were  drawn, 

But  rising  o'er  those  ties,  the  list'ning  youth 

Heard  'mid  the  silence  of  his  midnight  prayer          140 

The  angel's  salutation,  "  Spirit,  rise  ! 

Pure  Spirit  j  haste  to  us!"  and  who  could  blame 

The  mortal,  if  that  seraph  melody 

Prevail'd  ? 

Nor  yet  did  early  days  confine 
That  generous  ardour.     Like  the  rushing  wind 
And  tongue  of  flame,  those  high,  mysterious  gifts 
Of  Pentecost,  it  rested  on  a  few, 
And  markM  them  from  the  world. 

Heckewelder  toil'd, 

Girt  with  his  Master's  patience,1 1  while  slow  years 
Stamp'd  changes  on  his  brow.     Kind  Advocate         150 
Of  the  despis'd  Lemipe,  thou  didst  dare 
Like  Howard,  bold  philanthropist,  to  "  take 
Misery's  dimensions,  and  the  guage  of  scorn. 
Depression  and  contempt,  to  seek  the  coll 


137 

Of  the  forsaken,  and  with  pitying  heart 
Remember  the  forgotten." 

Mid  the  band 

Who  visited  the  desolate,  and  bore 
Glad  tidings  to  the  lost,  one  Man  of  God 
Journey'd  at  closing  day.     Deep  shadows  slretch'd 
Their  lengthening  cones  to  veil  his  vent'rous  path,    160 
And  in  stern  majesty,  those  stately  oaks, 
Whose  interwoven  branches  sought  the  clouds, 
Frown'd  darker  still.     The  silence  of  his  path 
Invited  lonely  musing,  and  the  truths 
Of  his  blest  mission,  passing  o'er  his  heart, 
Gave  joy  to  solitude.     But  a  rude  sound 
Disturb'd  his  meditations,  as  the  gale 
Of  Summer's  sudden  wrath  disperses  wide 
The  flowers,  whose  petals  tranquilly  were  clos'd 
Around  their  dewy  treasures.     Wild  it  rush'd  170 

From  a  high  cliff,  which  like  some  ruin'd  arch 
Seem'd  with  its  mould'ring  pediment  to  threat 
Th'  unwary  traveller. 

From  that  steep  which  seem'd 
No  path  for  human  foot,  fierce,  heavy  steps 
Came  boldly  down.     The  thicket  foliage  parts. 
And  thro'  the  sever'd  curtain  slalk'd  a  form 
12* 


138 

Of  mighty  size.     Not  with  a  prouder  port 

Rush'd  red  King  Philip  to  the  battle  strife, 

Hurling  defiance.     His  distorted  brow 

Seem'd  scath'd  with  lightning,  tho'  his  temples  bore  ISO 

The  frosts  of  Age.     His  giant  arm  he  rear'd 

In  threat'ning  gesture,  while  a  hollow  voice 

Utter'd  its  thunders 

"  Whither  goest  thou  ? 
Son  of  the  Ocean  foam  !*'12 

"  I  go,  to  speak 

Salvation  to  thy  race,  and  bear  the  word 
That  breathes  good  will  and  peace."     Indignant  fire. 
Flashing  from  the  grim  Chieftain's  eye,  announc'd 

His  kindled  wrath 

"  What  peace  thou  bring'st  I  know ! 
Such  as  we  found,  when  from  thy  serpent  glance 
We  shrunk  away,  and  all  our  countless  tribes  190 

Faded,  like  morning  mist.     Good-will  thou  bear'st  ? 
We  find  it  in  the  grave  !     It  marshals  there 
Our  murder'd  warriors.     There  was  once  a  time 
Of  happiness  for  Indians,  ere  thy  race 
Invaded  their  retreat.     Freely  they  roam'd 
Hunting  the  beaver,  and  the  dun  wild  deer 
In  their  own  forests.     Then  thy  fathers  sprang 


133 

Forth  from  the  slippery  surge,  and  their  pale  brows 

Smote  us  like  pestilence.     Infernal  arms 

They  wielded,  like  the  thunder-bolt  surcharged         200 

With  fatal  fires.     In  war,  we  were  their  prey, 

As  beasts  for  slaughter,  and  in  peace  their  sport, 

The  victims  of  their  poison.     Mighty  Chiefs 

And  fearless  hunters,  who  like  blasts  had  swept 

The  trembling  mountains,  dar'd  th'  unequal  fight 

And  perish'd.     Our  degen'rate  race  became 

Slaves  to  intemperance,  hiding  in  disgrace 

A  wither'd  name.     Hence  then,  contagious  man  ! 

Leave  us  what  still  is  ours  !     Leave  us  our  gods, 

Our  savage  virtues!     Leave  the  blighted  hopes        210 

That  cling  around  our  hearts  !     Spare  these  rude  plants, 

Those  only  wrecks  that  have  withstood  the  storm 

Of  your  destructive  friendship." 

In  dark  shades 

Vanish'd  the  Chief  majestic,  with  such  speed 
As  whirlwinds  trace  the  desert.     Calmly  past 
The  man  of  God,  revolving  with  meek  thought 
His  holy  purpose,  while  a  pray'r  besought 
Strength  'gainst  the  potent  Spirit  of  the  Air, 
Who,  like  a  Prince,  doth  rule  the  wayward  sons 
Of  disobedience.     As  the  Shepherd  seeks  220 


140 

The  lost  and  wandering  sheep,  this  good  man  sought 

The  scatter'd  Senecas ;  with  tender  zeal, 

Or  admonition  blent  with  terror,  strove 

To  rouse  the  stupid,  to  alarm  the  bold, 

T'  illume  the  ignorant.     A  little  flock, 

Drawn  from  the  wilderness,  his  call  obey'd, 

Following  his  footsteps  in  the  patient  course 

Of  Christian  duty.     Forty  moons  had  shed 

A  varying  lustre  o'er  their  sheltered  path, 

From  verdant  pasture  to  translucent  stream,  230 

Where  their  souls  found  repose. 

At  length,  a  cloud 

Involved  their  sanctu'ry  ;  its  simple  court 
Was  desolate.     None  enter'd  there  with  songs 
Of  sacred  joy,  no  kneeling  sufferer  sigh'd 
In  penitence  :  but  solitary  sat 
Their  pensive  Pastor,  while  the  Sabbath  call 
No  more  was  heeded.     Now  and  then  he  mark'd 
Some  lonely  wanderer,  stealing  near  the  spot 
Which  prayer  had  hallo  w'd,  gazing  as  in  grief, 
Then  gliding  slow  away.     Thus  the  sad  race  240 

Of  subjugated  Judah,  bent  the  glance 
Of  speechless,  hopeless,  agonizing  woe, 
On  that  beloved  city,  which  their  step 


141 

Dar'd  not  approach.1  3     The  wond'ring  Teacher  sought 

His  erring  charge,  and  with  an  anxious  zeal 

Painted  the  terrors  of  the  day  of  God 

To  those  who  slight  his  mercy,  who  reject 

The  knowledge  of  salvation.     Struck  with  awe 

The  recreants  wept,  hut  ling'ring  doubt  maintained 

A  darken'd  influence.  250 

"  Ah  !"  they  cried,  "  fierce  wrath 

Burncth  against  us.     Deeply  have  we  wrong' d 

Our  Fathers'  God.     From  those  tremendous  cliffs 

Where  Alleghany  wounds  the  streaming  cloud, 

A  Prophet  hath  he  sent,  denouncing  woe 

On  us  Apostates.     Our  sad  chiefs  have  nam'd 

A  day  of  audience,  when  this  fearful  man 

Bearing  his  message,  shall  denounce  the  ire 

Of  the  great  Spirit."     The  meek  Teacher  paus'd, 

Remembering  how  the  servants,  one  by  one, 

Forsook  his  Master  and  his  Lord,  who  stood  260 

Abandon'd  and  alone. 

Then  he  replied 

In  that  kind  tone,  with  which  griev'd  Love  reproves  ; — 
"  I  to  this  audience  go,  if  ye  permit ; 
I,  all  deserted  by  my  cherish'd  flock 
Will  meet  that  Prophet,  and  declare  the  words 


142 

Of  the  Chief  Shepherd."     The  appointed  time 

Arriv'd,  when  sceptic  Fear  no  more  might  halt 

Between  the  Christian's  God,  and  that  false  name 

Whom  Pagans  worship.     Church,  nor  council-house 

Might  hold  the  multitude,14  so  vast  a  throng  270 

Came  flocking  to  behold  th'  important  die 

Cast,  that  involv'd  their  fate.     Gay  Summer's  pride 

Had  rob'd  an  ample  vale,  whose  circling  bound 

Was  crown'd  by  hills.     There  graceful  foliage  droop'd. 

And  o'er  its  bosom  wound  a  limpid  stream, 

Like  sparkling,  chrystal  zone.     Thither  they  went. 

Beneath  the  shade  of  an  embow'ring  elm 

Whose  pendant  branches  met  the  silent  tide, 

The  Chieftains  rang'd.  Deep  thought  was  on  their  brow, 

As  those  whose  minds  revolv'd  a  nation's  fate.          280 

The  people  gather'd  near,  with  anxious  looks 

Regarding  their  wise  men,  while  the  mute  gaze 

Of  agoniz'd  suspense,  seem'd  to  inquire 

"  Which  was  the  God  ?"  as  wavering  Pilate's  lips 

Demanded,  "  What  is  Truth  ?" 

Lone  in  the  midst 

Of  this  wild  circle,  with  unruffled  brow 
-Sat  the  good  Missionary.  Age  and  Toil 
Had  set  their  signet  on  him*  Travel  and  Care 


143 

Trac'd  channels  for  the  tear,  and  furrow'd  deep 
Those  sunken  temples,  where  a  few  white  hairs       290 
Spread  their  disrupted  shield. 

An  hope  sublime 

Beam'd  from  his  lifted  eye,  which  seem'd  in  prayer 
Fix'd  and  expectant,  that  the  God  of  Truth 
Would  vindicate  his  servant.     Silence  reign'd 
Breathless  and  long,  save  where  the  trembling  boughs 
Sigh'd  to  the  south-wind,  or  the  rippling  tide 
Half  murmur'd.     Suddenly  a  smother'd  sound 
Like  deep  Astonishment,  or  moaning  Fear, 
Broke  from  the  multitude.     Down  the  rough  steep 
Was  seen  descending  a  tremendous  form  300 

With  frantic  haste.     His  lifted  hand  he  wav'd 
Commanding  silence,  and  the  wailing  ceas'd, 
As  if  in  Death.     With  countenance  serene 
The  Missionary  mark'd  him,  and  beheld 
In  Alleghany's  Seer,  the  same  stern  Chief 
Who  with  mysterious  step  had  cross'd  his  path 
In  Tuscarora's  forests.     The  same  skin 
Of  the  wild  panther  from  his  shoulders  hung 
In  careless  drapery,  quivered  in  his  hand 
The  same  keen  tomahawk,  from  his  red  eye  310 


144 

Darted  the  same  malignant  glance,  inflanvd 

With  rage  like  frenzy.     Chill'd  to  icy  awe 

The  natives  listen'd,  while  the  valley  rang 

With  his  hoarse  voice,  "  Men  of  the  Forest !  Hear  ! 

Thus  saith  the  Mighty  Spirit.     Ye  were  mine, 

But  have  forsaken  me.     Once  o'er  this  land 

Your  fathers  reign'd,  lords  of  the  treasur'd  deep, 

And  of  the  peopled  forest.     To  their  sons 

They  left  the  inheritance.     But  I  behold 

Steps  of  Usurpers  desolate  those  paths,  320 

And  hear  your  hunting-fields  resound  the  stroke 

Of  their  destructive  axe  !     Why  have  ye  fled 

From  the  delights  of  the  luxuriant  shore 

To  swamps  and  barren  hills  ?  crouching  to  hold 

Ev'n  this  polluted  pittance,  at  the  will 

Of  the  vile  white  Man  !     To  my  ears  no  more 

Rises  the  shout  of  war  from  Hudson's  banks, 

Or  revelry  from  Mohawk's  silver  tide. 

There,  where  your  Fathers,  free  as  the  wild  winds, 
That  rock'd  their  mountains,  dwelt,  the  Christian  slave 
Drives  his  deep  furrow,  whistling  as  he  turns  331 

Forth  from  the  trembling,  violated  grave, 
Their  sacred  relics.     Have  ye  never  heard 


At  closing  day,»or  in  the  solemn  watch 
Of  midnight,  a  melodious,  plaintive  strain 
Stealing  from  lonely  vale,  or  hillock  side, 
Like  Echo's  cadence  f     'Twas  the  wailing  tone 
Of  your  departed  fathers ;  they  whose  bones 
These  merciless  invaders  leave  to  bleach 
By  tempest  and  by  blast.     It  calls  their  sons  340 

By  deeds  of  righteous  vengeance  to  restore 
The  wand'ring  spirit  to  its  bow'rs  of  bliss  : 
For  there  it  may  not  rest,  if  aught  disturb 
The  mouldering  body's  sleep,  or  violate 
Its  sepulchre.     This  voice  invokes  the  brave. 
The  mighty,  the  invincible,  in  vain ; 
For  none  are  left.     Behold  !  what  glorious  gifts 
Ye  owe  to  white  men.     What  good-will  and  peace 
They  shed  upon  you  !     Exile  and  the  sword  ! 
Poisons  and  rifled  sepulchres  !  and  see  !  350 

They  fain  would  fill  the  measure  of  their  guilt 
With  the  dark  cheat  of  that  accursed  faith 
Whose  precepts  justify  their  nameless  crimes, 
Your  countless  woes.     Hearken,  deluded  race  ! 
Hearken,  for  the  last  time  !     If  ye  persist 
Thus  to  desert  my  altars,  thus  to  choose 
With  mad  credulity  th'  oppressor's  God, 
13 


146 

And  follow  Him,  my  wrath  shall  follow  ^ou. 

My  forked  lightnings  'mid  your  blazing  towns 

Fiercely  shall  dart,  and  Winter's  warring  blast  360 

Devour  the  fugitives.     Intemperance 

Shall  bloat  your  frames,  gaunt  Famine  thin  your  ranks, 

Till  the  surviving  wretches,  plunging  deep 

And  deeper  in  the  wild,  submit  to  hold 

Communion  with  the  dastard  beasts  that  fled 

Their  fathers'  arrows.     From  the  blissful  isle 

In  that  pure  lake,  where  happy  spirits  hold 

Eternal  pastime,  thro'  unfading  fields 

Hunting  the  gaily-branched  deer,  with  dogs 

Swifter  than  light,  from  thence  the  blasting  curse      370 

Shall  fall  on  you.     Ah  !  fear  ye  not  the  eye 

Of  your  great  ancestors — that  with'ring  glance 

Which  drinks  the  spirit  up  ?     By  lightning's  flame, 

By  thunder's  voice,  by  tempest's  wrath,  I  swear, 

That  in  the  space  of  sixty  hasting  moons, 

Not  one  of  all  the  Senecas,  not  one 

Of  you  who  hear  me,  one  of  these  your  babes. 

Nor  kindred,  shall  be  found  upon  the  face 

Of  the  wide  earth." 

He  ceas'cl,  and  mingled  sounds 
Like  the  hoarse  rush  of  waters  and  of  winds,  380 


147 

Rose  from  the  multitude.     Distorting  Fear 

Dealt  her  deep  ague;  clamorous  Ignorance 

Moan'd  in  convulsions  ;   Superstition  glar'd 

As  if  the  death-groans  of  the  threatened  tribe 

Already  bursting  on  her  wounded  ear 

Transfix' d  her  soul  with  agony  ;  while  Rage, 

Kindled  with  breath  of  fiery  Eloquence, 

Made  rashness  mad.     Headlong  the  boldest  rush'd 

From  the  torn  circle,  to  demand  the  blood 

Of  the  good  Missionary.     Calm  he  met  390 

Their  fatal  purpose,  nor  essay'd  to  shun 

Their  iron  grasp 

"  Father  !  if  thus  thy  voice 
Call'st  thy  weak  servant  from  his  weary  toil, 
Thy  will  be  done  !     Thy  hand  will  gird  his  heart 
To  meet  its  martyrdom." 

Perchance  the  light 

Which  round  his  temples  play'd,  was  that  which  beam'd 
On  holy  Stephen's  brow,  when  he  beheld 
Eritranc'd,  the  op'ning  heavens,  and  Jesus  Christ 
Sitting  at  God's  right  hand.     But  the  grave  Chiefs 
Forbade  th'  unrighteous  deed,  and  with  a  word        400 
Rescued  the  victim.     Forth  the  Man  of  God 
Came,  as  in  act  to  speak.     His  sacred  form 


148 

Bent  for  a  moment  in  Devotion's  warmth 

Of  gratitude  to  Heaven,  his  clasping  hands 

Prest  on  his  bosom,  while  his  mien  exprest 

That  perfect  peace,  which  the  world's  smile  gives  not-, 

Nor  can  her  frown  destroy.     Near  him  in  wrath 

Stood  Alleghany's  prophet.     It  might  seem 

Almost,  as  if  in  solemn  contrast  rose, 

Ebal,  the  mount  of  cursing,  tow'ring  dark  410 

O'er  the  appall'd  assembly,  while  the  breast 

Of  fruitful  Gerizim  thro'  waving  shades 

Sigh'd  blessings  on  th'  obedient. 

That  faint  smile 

Divinely  casting  intellectual  light 
O'er  the  pale  features  of  the  Man  of  God, 
Blent  with  his  eye's  unearthly  glance,  convey'd 
Tranquil  monition  that  he  soon  should  bid 
Farewell  to  ills  of  Time.     Then  ere  he  spake, 
Upon  his  foes  a  deep  regard  he  cast 
Of  mild  forgiveness;  as  our  Saviour  turn'd  420 

And  look'd  on  Peter.     Unresisted  chains 
Of  silence  bound  the  circle,  while  a  voice 
Of  sweetest  modulation,  sonorous, 
Tender  or  plaintive,  as  the  varying  theme 
Requir'd,  broke  forth 


149 

"  Ah  !  would  that  I  could  speak 
So  that  ye  would  believe,  of  the  true  God, 
Whose  eye  is  ever  on  us,  and  whose  ear 
Heareth  our  secret  thoughts.     His  hand  ye  trace 
In  mercy  on  the  beauteous  earth  ;  his  pow'r 
Ye  cannot  comprehend,  for  He  alone  430 

Is  infinite.     Would  that  my  feeble  mind 
Could  paint  his  Heav'n,  so  that  ye  all  might  seek 
That  blest  abode,  where  dwell  the  pure  in  heart ; 
For  there  dire  Winter  comes  not,  sultry  heat, 
Nor  withering  famine,  pain,  nor  parting  tear, 
Sickness,  nor  ghastly  death.     There  the  free  soul 
Shall  drink  of  boundless,  everlasting  bliss 
When  yonder  sun  must  fall,  and  this  fair  sky 
Parch  like  a  shrivell'd  scroll.     Ye  too  have  heard 
Of  that  dire  place  which  Justice  hath  prepar'd  440 

For  vile,  rebellious  spirits.     There  are  tears, 
Wailings,  unceasing  groans,  and  tortures  dire, 
And  troubled  tossings  like  th'  unresting  sea, 
While  the  far  echoes  of  the  songs  of  Heaven 
Steal  o'er  the  gulf  impassable,  and  wake 
Hopeless  remorse.     Think,  O  my  brethren,  think  I 
Of  Him  who  freely  gave  his  life,  that  Man 
Might  scape  this  sorrow,  and  obtain  that  bliss. 


150 

Remember  ye  his  lot  of  homeless  woe  ? 
His  uncomplaining,  unreviling  life?  450 

The  thorns  that  pierc'd  him,  the  deep-wounding  spear  ? 
For  ye  have  heard  his  sufferings,  and  have  wept 
In  better  days,  that  He  for  you  should  bleed. 
Yes!  ye  have  knelt  to  thank  and  bless  that  God 
Who  so  had  lov'd  the  world,  that  he  should  give 
His  only  Son  to  save  it.     Ye  have  said 
That  the  wild  savage  roaming  on  in  blood, 
Blindness,  and  vengeful  passions,  till  dark  life 
Sunk  in  a  darker  grave,  bereft  of  hope, 
Was  far  less  happy  than  the  humble  saint  400 

Bowing  in  patience  to  the  bond  which  curbs 
His  sinful  spirit,  and  with  active  hand 
Pouring  out  Love  on  Hatred,  till  it  melt, 
And  be  no  more  remember'd.     Ye  have joy'd 
To  hear,  that  he  might  lead  his  little  ones 
Through  light  and  knowledge  to  eternal  rest. 
Have  ye  not  seen  him  grateful  for  this  life, 
Yet  undismay'd  at  death  ?     His  spirit  lov'd 
The  blest  assurance  that  its  short  eclipse 
Should  fleet  before  the  resurrection  morn ;  470 

Therefore  he  slept  in  hope.     Ye  soon  must  yield 
\rour  bodies  to  the  worm  :  Oh  !  then  believe 


151 

What  ye  have  once  believ'd,  for  that  was  truth. 

Behold,  as  the  frail  Day-beam  hastes  to  lay 

Its  fainting  head  on  Twilight's  dusky  lap. 

So  fades  our  life.     Return,  ye  wand'ring  flock  ! 

That  He,  who  is  so  plenteous  to  forgive, 

May  turn  to  you.     And  now,  Eternal  Judge  ! 

What  wait  I  for  ?     Look  thou  upon  my  heart, 

And  see  if  love  for  those  whom  thou  hast  made,       480 

Led  me  from  sweet  delights  of  home,  to  bear 

Here  in  my  age,  when  Nature  seeks  repose, 

Journeyings  and  watchings  in  the  wilderness, 

Perils  and  dangers.     Thou  alone  canst  read 

The  Missionary's  motive,  which  the  world 

Oft  misinterprets.     Lord,  into  thy  hand 

Commend  I  thine  own  cause." 

Bowing  he  ceas'd, 

But  Silence  listen'd  :  fond  Expectancy 
Still  linger'd  mute,  so  soothing  fell  the  balm 
On  harrow'd  bosoms.     Thus  the  genial  show'r         490 
And  holy  dew,  refresh  the  sterile  earth 
Parch'd  by  long  drought,  or  by  tornado  stript 
Of  her  young  verdure.     O'er  rough  features  mark'd 
By  recent  passions,  stole  the  contrite  tear, 
Strange,  yet  unheeded.     Long  the  Chieftains  held 


152 

Their  solemn  conclave,  ere  the  question  high 
Might  be  decided.     'Mid  that  awful  pause, 
Fears,  apprehensions,  terrors,  anxious  hopes, 
Convuls'd  the  throng.     The  second  hour  had  drawn 
Its  tardy  length,  when  from  the  council  came  509 

Its  hoariest  Chieftain.     On  his  head  he  bore 
The  crown  of  Age,  and  leaning  on  his  staff 

Utter'd  the  words  of  wisdom 

"  That  great  God, 

Whom  Christians  call  Jehovah,  is  more  just, 
Mighty,  beneficent,  worthy  of  praise, 
Than  him  your  Fathers  worshipp'd.     So  receive 
The  Christian's  God :  and  in  his  servant  view 
Your  guide  to  Heaven." 

Then,  the  adoring  tribe, 
As  a  thick  forest  to  some  mighty  wind 
Pays  universal  rev'rence,  bow'd  the  head  51CF 

And  worshipp'd  God.     Thus  witness'd  Carmel's  mount 
Such  solemn  homage,  when  in  ancient  time 
Backsliding  Israel  saw  the  priests  of  Baal 
Humbled,  and  awful  fires  confirm  the  claim 
Of  the  majestic  Prophet :     He  who  stood 
Lonely  and  fearless,  to  confront  the  wrath 
Of  impious  Jezebel's  demoniac  throng, 


153 

He,  who  on  car  of  flame,  like  glowing  star 

High  o'er  the  empyrean  rising,  mark'd 

A  glorious  path,  shunning  the  gloomy  gates  520 

Of  Death's  dark  confine. 

When  that  hoary  Chief 
Had  utter'd  the  decree,  who  may  describe 
What  fierce  demoniac  rage  possest  the  Seer 
Of  Alleghany  ?     His  red  eye-ball  roll'd 
As  if  in  torment,  while  thro'  gnashing  teeth 
He  strove  with  madd'ning  impotence  to  force 
The  curse  unutterable,  and  bounding  high 
With  brandish'd  Tomahawk,  as  if  he  scorn'd 
The  soil  of  such  apostates,  disappear'd 
Mid  the  deep  forest  shadows.  530 


154 


Joys  not  the  Mariner 

When  on  the  midnight  of  his  trackless  course 
Mid  rocks  and  quicksands  of  a  coast  unknown 
The  far-seen  light-house  beams  a  star  of  hope 
Into  his  soul  ?    Upon  the  Mourner's  tear, 
When  Resignation  sheds  her  holiest  dew, 
Rises  there  not  a  trembling  messenger 
Of  Joy,  because  the  passing  storm  hath  wav'd 
Its  wing  in  peace  ?     When  to  the  humble  Saint 
Whose  pilgrimage  was  darkness,  whose  weak  Faith 
Scarce  saw  a  twilight  which  the  hand  of  Fear  10 

Rob'd  not  in  gloom,  the  vale  of  Death  displays 

Eternal  Glory's  never-setting  sun1 

Is  there  not  Joy  ?     Oh  !  then  exult  for  them, 
That  abject  race,  who  o'er  the  storms  of  life, 
The  night  of  sorrow,  and  the  hopeless  tomb. 
Beheld  Salvation's  radiance.     O'er  the  wild 
Where  Paganism  long  triumph'd,  rearing  high 
His  desolating  ensign,  the  pure  Cross 


155 

Extends  its  arms,  and  kneeling  at  its  foot 

The  Indian  hymns  his  Maker.     Sweet  that  tone         20 

Ascends  from  the  lone  forest,  where  conven'd 

Beneath  their  chapel's  dedicated  dome 

Oneida's  natives  pay  their  vows  to  God.1 

There  they  adore  that  Name,  which  from  the  dawH 

Of  the  Sun's  brightness,  to  the  farthest  bound 

Of  his  remote  declension,  shall  be  great 

Among  the  Gentiles.     There  with  raptur'd  voice 

Ascribe  high  praises  for  the  means  of  grace, 

And  hope  of  glory.     There,  confess  with  shame 

That  as  the  wandering  sheep  forsakes  the  fold,  36 

They  all  have  stray'd ;  and  there  His  aid  invoke 

Who  the  deep  sighing  of  the  contrite  heart 

Despises  not,  nor  scorns  the  humble  tear 

Of  Penitence.     There  supplicate  their  Lord 

By  his  deep  agony,  his  bloody  sweat, 

His  cross  and  passion,  by  his  precious  death, 

Burial  and  resurrection,  to  behold 

And  spare  them  in  his  mercy.     There  present 

To  the  baptismal  font  their  tender  babes  ; 

And,  kneeling  round  a  Saviour's  table,  pay  40 

Homage  to  Him  who  in  his  boundless  love 

Appointed  such  remembrance.     When  the  rod 


156 

Of  Sickness  rests  upon  them,  holy  prayer 

From  consecrated  lips  beseech  of  God 

To  strengthen  by  his  Spirit,  the  decay 

Of  that  which  perisheth,  and  grant  the  soul 

Remission  of  its  sins,  ere  it  depart 

To  be  on  earth  no  more.     And,  when  the  lamp 

Of  frail  mortality  is  quench'd,  when  man, 

Who  like  the  fleeting  shadow  ne'er  abides  50 

In  one  continued  stay,  when  he  who  comes 

Forth  as  a  flow'ret  to  the  blushing  morn 

Ere  the  quick-hasting  hour  of  eve,  returns 

Ashes  to  ashes — o'er  the  mouldering  wreck 

Hope  lifts  her  banner,  cloudless  as  the  light, 

Bright  with  these  characters  of  heavenly  truth  : 

The  slumberer  shall  awake  ;  the  unseal'd  eye 

See  its  Redeemer  ;  and  although  the  worm 

Destroy  this  body,  yet  the  dust  shall  rise     ,  / 

To  Immortality.  60 

Hail,  holy  hearts ! 

Who,  fill'd  with  pure  benevolence,  rejoice^ 
That  the  green  olive  decks  the  rugged  brows 
Of  the  dark  forest  children,  let  that  zeal 
Which  prompts  for  them  your  charity,  unite 
The  useful  arts  of  life  with  love  divine, 


157 

Gifts  for  this  world,  with  knowledge  of  the  next. 
Take  lessons  from  Creation  ;  from  the  skill 
Of  the  Eternal,  who  hath  bound  so  strict 
Body  with  mind.     Thou  strong,  mysterious  chain  ! 
Linking  dull  matter  to  the  viewless,  pure,  70 

And  subtle  spirit,  dost  thou  not  instruct 
Us  in  our  bounty  not  to  disunite 
Terrestrial  and  divine  ?     Those  secret  flames, 
Which  guided  Gideon's  darkly  hostile  path, 
Were  hid  in  earthen  caskets  :  thus  the  soul 
Hath  no  unmix'd  ascendancy,  till  death, 
Rending  the  veil  of  clay,  bids  her  return 
To  her  creative  essence.     Wisdom's  hand 
Heweth  out  pillars,  when  she  rears  the  house 
Whose  dome  is  for  the  skies  :*  and  thus  a  prop          £0 
Might  e'en  sublime  Christianity  receive 
From  her  more  earthly  sisters ;  from  the  arm 
Of  simple  agriculture,  from  the  toil 
Of  patient  industry,  from  every  art 
That  sheds  a  charm  on  life.     Behold  the  plan 
Of  Wisdom  heeded ;  see  a  sacred  band 
In  our  own  days  bear  to  the  darken'd  wild 
Those  blended  rays  which  cheer  man's  path  below, 
Yet  light  it  to  the  skies. 
14 


158 

Blest  were  the  steps 

Of  these  propitious  heralds  o'er  the  vales  90' 

Of  wat'ry  Tennessee,  raptur'd  their  tone 
Proclaiming  liberty  to  the  sad  souls 
Bound  in  the  prison-house.     Humbly  they  went, 
Like  Him  who  pour'd  the  gospel's  pardoning  voice 
On  publicans  and  sinners,  mild  forgave 
Guilt  at  whose  sight  the  accusing  Pharisee 
High  rais'd  the  fatal  stone,  and  shed  that  tear 
Which  sanctions  human  grief,  o'er  the  clos'd  grave 
Of  Bethany.     Meek  to  their  mission  bow'd 
These  teachers  like  their  Lord  ;  yet  not  like  Him,    100 
Who  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head,  were  scorn'd. 
He  came  unto  his  own,  bearing  the  seal 
Of  mercy,  but  their  sacrilegious  hands 
Refus'd  the  gift,  and  madly  crucified 
The  Giver ;  they  with  grateful  joy  were  hail'd 
By  the  sad  stranger's  moaning  on  the  wild3 
Like  Rachel,  weeping  o'er  her  children  lost, 
And  shunning  consolation's  cup  because 
Her  babes  were  not. 

"  Oh  !  have  ye  come  to  bring 

Mercy  to  us  !  and  will  ye  teach  our  sons  110 

To  leave  the  hunter's  fruitless  toil,  and  love 


159 

The  arts  by  which  ye  live?     Will  ye  impart 
To  them  that  knowledge  which  their  wand'ring  sires 
Benighted,  found  not?  the  assurance  blest, 
That  after  death  the  spirit  shall  ascend 

To  Him  who  gave  it? 

One  there  was,  who  breath'd 
The  same  kind  promise  to  our  wretched  race, 
Great  Washington  our  Father.     Low  he  sleeps, 
And  deep  we  mourn'd  him  !     But  behold,  we  see 
One  in  his  seat,  who  bends  a  Sire's  regard  120 

On  these  unhappy  tribes.     Ye  too,  blest  Men, 
Greet  us  as  brethren,  seeking  to  rebuild 
Our  desolation." 

Thus  Renatus  spake,4 

The  Chief  baptized  from  Heav'n,  whose  eloquence 
Bath'd  in  the  fountain  of  celestial  dews, 
Henceforth  is  purified.     His  ardent  heart 
Long'd  that  his  blinded  tribe  might  view  the  light, 
And  joy'd  to  mark  their  offspring  thronging  come 
From  the  dark  forest.     Sad  the  outcasts  seem'd, 
As  if  their  hard  and  bitter  lot  had  crush'd  130 

The  sportiveness  of  childhood.     But  when  Love 
Allur'd  them  to  its  shelter,  gently  bound 
Its  circlet  round  them,  show'd  their  wond'ring  eyes 


100 

The  excellence  of  order,  and  the  pow'r 

Of  varying  knowledge,  their  excursive  minds 

Travers'd  the  new  expanse,  while  their  chang'd  brow§. 

Beam'd  with  exulting  hopes.     How  would  the  heart 

Of  mild  Benevolence  rejoice  to  view 

Those  tawny  children  of  the  forest  stand 

Like  lambs  before  their  teachers,  pleas'd  to  gain       148 

That  knowledge,  which  to  their  benighted  souls 

Seems  like  the  glory  of  Creation's  ray 

Bursting  from  Chaos.     Ah  !  methinks  the  bounds 

Of  distance  fleet!  and  bright,  prevailing  rays 

Reveal  the  scene.5     A  happy  band  I  see, 

Bending  intently  o'er  the  sacred  page, 

With  sudden  comprehension,  while  glad  tears 

Unconscious  start ;  or  cheerful  passing  on 

From  hours  of  study,  to  accustomed  sport, 

From  sport  to  useful  toil.     The  day  declines,  150 

Ajid  gathering  meekly  at  Devotion's  call, 

The  holy  orison  ascends  to  Him, 

The  first,  the  last,  whose  unrequited  love 

Careth  for  all  his  works.     Methinks  I  hear 

Their  vesper  hymn,  in  solemn  melody 

Dying  away.     Almost  thy  fervent  pray'r 

Bursts  on  rny  ear,  blest  Kingsbury  !6  thou  whose  zeal 


16! 

Didst  in  the  wilderricss  prepare  the  way 

For  HeavVs  ambassadors.     Thy  student's  cell 

Longmark'd  thee,  o'er  this  world-discarded  theme  lt>0 

Musing  like  David,  when  the  holy  flame 

Burnt  in  his  heart,  and  from  his  harp-strings  burst* 

Like  the  firm  Patriarch,  from  his  peaceful  home, 

And  fathers'  sepulchres,  divinely  urg'd 

To  wander,  strong  in  faith,  tho'  trembling  hope 

Pointed,  she  knew  not  whither,  thou  didst  pitch 

Thy  lonely  tent ;  may  He  whose  promise  cheer'd 

The  Father  of  the  Faithful,  guide  thy  steps, 

And  aid  thy  helpers,  till  their  toil  redeem 

From  Superstition's  mazes,  countless  heirs  170 

Of  heaven's  inheritance. 

Amid  the  group 

Of  thy  new  gather'd  family,  is  one, 
Whose  humble  aspect  and  mild  eye  reveal 
That  in  her  heart  the  Spirit  of  God  hath  wrought 
A  holy  work.     With  gentlest  hand  she  leads 
Those  younger  than  herself,  repeating  oft, 
"  How  good,  how  merciful  is  He  who  took 
Us  from  our  low  estate." 

Patient  she  strives 
By  prayers,  and  by  instructions,  to  arouse 

14* 


Reflection  in  the  hearts  of  those  she  styles  1 80 

Her  wretched  people.     Modest,  tender,  kind, 

Her  words  and  actions ;  every  vain  desire 

Is  laid  obedient  at  the  feet  of  Christ. 

And  now  no  more  the  gaiety  she  seeks 

Of  proud  apparel ;  ornaments  of  gold 

She  gladly  barters  for  the  plain  attire 

Of  meek  and  lowly  spirits.     Catharine,  hail! 

Our  sister  in  the  faith  !7  Can  those  who  love 

The  image  of  their  Saviour,  lightly  prize 

His  lineaments  in  thee  ?  190 

How  beautiful 

Is  undefil'd  Religion,  mild  enthron'd 
Upon  the  brow  of  youth.     Its  touch  dispels 
All  dissonance  of  feature,  every  shade 
Which  darkens  this  dull  clay,  each  narrow  line 
Of  cold  division,  and  with  Truth's  clear  beara 
Reveals  the  graces  of  the  pure  in  heart, 
Who  shall  see  God. 

And  thou  too,  Warrior  brave ! 

Undaunted  Charles,8  who  dar'dst  the  opposing  flood 
Of  the  swift  Coosa,  'mid  the  British  fires, 
And  guiding  thence  th'  endanger'd  barks  preserv'dst  200 
The  lives  of  many  ;  thou  who  didst  obtain 


163 

The  meed  of  valour,  yet  hast  meekly  learnt 

Now  not  to  glory,  save  in  the  reproach 

And  cross  of  Christ;  we  bless  thee  as  the  fruits 

E'en  as  the  early  harvest  of  the  toil 

Of  God's  own  servant,  who  in  youthful  prime, 

In  the  heart's  flow'ry  spring,  from  joys  of  home, 

From  charms  of  love  departing,  sought  the  work 

Of  an  evangelist.     Like  the  bold  strain 

Of  him  whose  lips  the  altar's  flame  had  cleans'd,      21Q 

His  ardent  tone,  as  through  the  wilds  he  bent 

His  solitary  way,9  bade  the  rude  cliffs 

And  trackless  mountains  bow  their  hoary  heads. 

And  the  lone  vales  with  rev'rent  awe  arise 

To  meet  their  God. 

Oh  ye,  who  raptur'd  trace 
Historic  annals  through  th'  eclipsing  cloud 
Of  dark  uncertainty,  and  hoary  years, 
Behold  what  changes  our  portentous  times 
Mark  on  this  fleeting  stage  !     On  awful  wheels 
Rolls  the  Redeemer's  chariot  o'er  the  earth,  2^0 

Making  the  Idols  tremble.     Ocean  bears 
Upon  his  thousand  waves,  the  herald  train 
Who  rear  Salvation's  banner.     To  each  clime, 
Sultry  or  savage,  hastes  the  mighty  Scroll 


164 

Of  Inspiration.     Seraph-harps  resound 
With  hallelujahs  o'er  the  ceaseless  flight 
Of  souls,  who  borne  by  Penitence  ascend 
Up  to  Heaven's  gate. 

Ye,  who  from  earliest  dawn 
Of  infant  reason  to  this  passing  hour, 
Have  heard  the  Gospel's  invitation  pour'd, 
Who  view  the  rapid  hand  of  Time  unfold 
High  Prophecy's  dread  annals,  while  the  Sun 
Of  truth,  bright  darting  from  each  broken  seal 
Dispels  the  mist  where  Infidel  disguise 
Sought  its  cold  covert.     Oh  !  embrace  the  hope 
Which  cannot  perish.      Would  ye  know  the  worth 
Of  our  Religion,  prove  it  in  the  hour 
When  dire  affliction,  like  some  wrecking  storm, 
Appals  the  soul.     Say  !  have  ye  seen  the  friend 
Whom  the  most  sacred,  most  endearing  ties  240 

Bound  to  your  heart,  a  prey  to  stern  disease  ? 
And  while  you,  watching  o'er  her  pillow,  strove 
'Gainst  wan  Despair,  and  agonizing  pray'd 
That  the  brief  remnant  of  her  fragile  life 
Not  yet  might  vanish,  has  the  hand  of  God 
Alter'd  her  countenance  ?     Have  ye  beheld 
That  cherish'd  form  in  the  dim  shroud  of  Death, 


165 

Lock'd  in  his  damp,  eold  cavern  ?     Saw  ye  then 
The  star  of  immortality  arise 

From  the  drear  shadows  of  that  gloomy  vale  250 

Which  Nature  enters  shudd'ring,  and  pale  Grief 
Dews  with  unceasing  tear  ? 

When  ye  have  bent 

O'er  her  lone  tomh,  shrinking  beneath  the  weight 
Of  blasted  Hope,  while  the  resistless  tide 
Of  Sorrow,  heighten'd  by  the  mournful  swell 
Of  recollected  joys,  o'er  the  void  soul 
Roll'd  like  a  mighty  deluge,  mark'd  ye  not 
Inscribed  above  the  ebon  gate  of  Death, 
l{  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life, 
Saith  Jesus  Christ?"     Ah  !  when  ye  have  believ'd  260 
That  the  sepulchral  keys  should  be  consigned 
To  that  blest  hand  which  once  was  deeply  pierc'd 
For  man's  offences,  ye  have  meekly  knelt 
Amid  the  ruins  of  your  love,  and  sigh'd, 
Thy  will  be  done.     Still  let  that  soften'd  glow 
Pervade  your  spirit ;  bid  your  life  evince 
Your  orthodoxy  ;  let  your  virtues  be 
Devotion's  daughters.     Toil  no  more  to  hide 
Sectarian  bitterness  beneath  the  cloak 
Of  righteous  zeal ;  your  many-headed  faith  270 


166 

Reduce  to  His  simplicity,  who  merg'd 

In  Love  to  the  Supreme  and  Love  to  man, 

The  prophets,  and  the  law.     Then  shall  ye  find 

The  grandeur  of  Omnipotence  absorb 

The  trifles  of  the  hour ;  as  he  who  stands 

On  Andes'  crown,  marking  the  Ocean  mix 

His  tides  eternal  with  the  bending  skies, 

Notes  not  the  obstacles,  nor  heeds  the  thorns 

That  marr'd  his  path  below.     Then  shall  ye  strike 

The  lyre  of  praise  to  the  Eternal  God,  280 

Who  needeth  not  th'  Archangel's  arm,  yet  deigns 

From  the  frail  habitants  of  clay,  to  form 

Instruments  for  his  work  :  then  shall  ye  rise 

Clad  in  Messiah's  armour  to  advance 

His  hasting  sceptre,  or  to  pay  your  vows 

Before  his  throne.     Oh  !  aid  that  sacred  cause 

Which  saints  espous'd,  which  holy  martyrs  seal'd 

With  their  hearts'  blood,  and  bending  from  the  skies 

Complacent  view.     Uphold  it  by  your  prayers, 

Your  alms,  your  influence,  for  Jehovah's  smile          290 

Shall  crown  the  labour. 

Who  will  coldly  say,r 

That  he  is  burden'd  with  the  ceaseless  claim 
And  tax  of  charity — that  her  demands, 


167 

Taking  each  shape  and  form  of  countless  thought, 

He  cannot  grant?     Then  let  him  stay  his  hand, 

Withhold  his  short  compassion,  hoard  his  gold, 

Hoard  for  his  children,  for  his  cherish'd  lusts : 

But  bid  him  heed  that  day,  when  it  shall  rise 

"  To  eat  his  flesh  like  fire  :"  yes  !  heed  the  day 

Of  righteous  scrutiny.     The  work  is  God's ;  300 

And  still  shall  it  proceed.     He  needeth  not 

The  aid  of  the  reluctant.     Countless  hosts 

On  earth,  in  air,  and  highest  Heaven  rejoice 

To  do  his  will.     Full  many  a  heart  has  rent 

The  bonds  close  twisted  with  its  central  clasp 

In  Life's  delightful  morn,  by  sacred  home, 

Kindred,  and  parents'  love.     Yes  !  throngs  have  bid 

Farewell  without  a  tear,  tho'  the  gay  world 

Might  call  it  martyrdom,  yet  have  they  gone 

To  their  returnless  bourn,  diffusing  joy  310 

O'er  desolation,  and  within  their  souls 

Hiding  its  sacred  source.     Full  many  a  name 

Which  Fashion  flaunting  in  her  gilded  car 

Heeds  not  amid  her  pomp,  is  register'd 

In  the  Lamb's  book  of  life.     Ah  !    some  have  borne 

Their  message  prosperously,  and  some  have  fall'n, 

Fall'n  in  their  charity.     The  blooming  flow'r 


168 

Has  faded,  and  the  withering  matron  stem 

Cast  its  pale  blossom  in  Salvation's  path, 

Strewing  the  steps  of  Sorrow.     Thou  hast  falPn,      320 

Thou  mild  Moravian  Sister  I1  °     Thou  wert  deck'd 

With  what  the  giddy,  unreflecting  world 

Might  call  accomplishment,  but  thou  didst  own 

A  pearl  it  could  not  purchase.     Thou  didst  cleanse 

Thy  knowledge  in  the  fount  of  Jesus  Christ, 

And  pour  it  to  the  poor ;  even  as  the  hand 

Of  the  blest  angel  mov'd  Siloam's  pool 

To  heal  the  impotent.     And  thou  didst  die 

E'en  as  thou  liv'dst,  unmurmuring,  pure,  serene, 

And  ardent  in  thy  faith. 330 

Thou  hast  obtain'd 
Eternal  gain,  from  sublunary  loss, 
And  tribulation  ;  for  thy  robes  are  white 
In  the  atoning  blood.     Say,  shall  we  shed 
The  tear  for  thee,  blest  Sister  !  when  thy  lot 
Is  better  far  than  ours  ? 

Soft  glows  the  turf 

O'er  the  young  Osage  Orphan,11  she  whose  chains 
Of  sad  captivity  were  gently  riven 
By  mild  benevolence ;  while  He  who  pours 
Light  on  the  blinded  eye,  redeem'd  her  heart 


169 

From  Nature's  slavery.     Beams  not  her  smile  340 

From  some  bright  cloud,  with  grateful  ray,  on  those 

Who  o'er  her  transient  tutelage  diffus'd 

Instruction's  early  germ,  affections  mild, 

And  hopes  benign  ?     Ye  blest,  who  still  essay 

To  offer  incense  'mid  those  erring  tribes, 

Lift  high  your  censers,  bright  with  holy  flame, 

Be  strong,  and  fear  not.     He,  whose  mighty  voice 

Counseli'd  the  Prophet  to  prepare  his  way 

In  the  wild  desert,  and  make  strait  his  path 

Over  the  trackless  mountains,  He  will  come  350 

And  bring  the  victory.     Ye  too,  whose  hands 

Might  gird  the  soldiers,  ye,  whom  Heav'n  appoints 

As  stewards  of  its  bounty,  will  ye  aid 

The  sacred  mission  ?     Will  ye  freely  strew 

The  seeds  of  wealth  upon  this  troubled  soil, 

And  trust  the  God  of  harvest  ?     Prest  with  want, 

Blinded  by  ignorance,  and  in  the  maze 

Of  brutal  vice  and  superstition  chain'd, 

The  wretched  natives  stand.     To  you,  their  hands 

They  raise,  imploring.  360 

Tears  of  anguish  stain 

Their  haggard  features.     Timidly  they  lead 
Their  untaught  children,  asking  you  to  grant 

15 


170 

Pity  and  comfort.     Those  neglected  minds, 

Long  bound  in  dungeon  gloom,  yet  bearing  trace 

Of  noblest  workmanship,  ye  might  illume 

With  intellectual  brightness,  as  the  stone 

Of  precious  lustre,  from  the  rubbish  drawn, 

Dazzles  the  polisher.     Ah  !  think  how  hard 

His  lot,  whom  shades  envelop,  where  fair  Hope 

Unfolds  no  dewy  petal,  where  the  tree  370 

Of  knowledge  springs  not,  and  where  Genius  buds 

To  feel  the  frost  and  die.     Amid  our  race, 

Too  oft  we  sigh  to  mark  the  mighty  force 

Of  Genius  misapplied,  its  daring  search 

Unsanctified,  and  its  refulgent  flame 

Sparkling  through  dim,  perverted  tendencies, 

As  through  a  misty  halo.     Genius  soars 

Like  the  proud  Eagle  tow'rd  the  vertic  Sun, 

But  oft  her  drooping  crest,  and  pinions  soil'd, 

Betray  the  aberrations  of  a  flight  380 

Which  Heaven  directs  not.     When  her  plumage  drinks-. 

The  freshening  dews  of  renovated  love, 

When  her  purg'd  eye,  with  steadfast  beam  beholds 

The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  when  her  heart  feels 

His  healing  touch,  who  sanctifies  what  Earth 

Deems  holy,  how  sublime  doth  she  aspire 


171 

And  hovering  o'er  the  cliff  of  Zion's  mount, 

Await  the  call  to  rise  and  make  her  nest 

Among  the  stars.     Philosophy  perceiv'd, 

E'en  thro'  the  dimness  of  the  earliest  days,  390 

The  emptiness  of  life,  and  weakly  blam'd 

This  void  existence.     But  Religion  brought 

The  promise  of  a  new,  and  o'er  the  storm 

Rais'd  her  while  banner.     Then  the  day-star  shone, 

Enlight'ning  darkness,  and  the  realm  of  Death, 

Guiding  the  mourners'  step  thro'  thorns  and  gloom, 

To  a  strong  refuge  in  the  glorious  hope 

Of  immortality. 

Oh  !  then  impart 

To  your  blind  brother,  in  his  heathen  woe, 
The  surplus  of  your  luxury  ;  and  peace  400 

And  joy  shall  blossom  in  his  gloomy  path, 
As  Eden's  roses  'neath  the  Angels'  feet. 
Christians  !  who  list'ning,  love  the  word  divine, 
Who  find  it  as  a  sun-beam  in  your  path, 
And  like  a  star  of  glory  to  your  souls, 
Think  of  your  brother,  (for  our  God  hath  made 
All  of  one  blood,  who  dwell  upon  the  earth,) 
Think  of  your  brother,  in  your  very  gates, 
Wand'ring,  unsatisfied,  benighted,  sad. 


172 

Down  to  his  grave,  where  no  sweet  spirit  tells  410 

Of  rest  in  Jesus,  where  no  hallow'd  voice 

Sooths  him  to  mingle  dust  with  dust,  in  hope 

Of  a  blest  resurrection.     Nature  weeps 

O'er  her  fall'n  son,  in  speechless  agony, 

While  the  dark  forms  of  Horror  and  despair 

Mock  at  her  bitterness.     Would  ye  desire 

That  peace  and  mercy  there  should  wave  their  wings 

And  midnight  flee  away  ?     Then  lift  your  pray'r, 

Dispense  your  bibles,  send  your  holy  men 

To  publish  peace  ;  let  the  poor  native  taste  420 

The  fruits  that  grow  upon  your  tree  of  life, 

Hold  to  his  parch'd  and  thirsty  lips  the  cup 

Of  your  salvation,  and  as  his  warm  tears 

Of  gratitude  and  penitence  burst  forth, 

So  shall  your  rapture  swell  at  the  last  day 

When  ye  shall  hear  the  glorious  words,  "  Approach  ! 

What  ye  have  done  to  one  of  these,  the  least, 

The  lowest  in  the  scale  of  woe,  was  done 

To  me,  your  Judge  :  and  where  the  Master  dwells, 

There  shall  the  servant  be."  430 

Ye  too,  who  share 

The  gentle  sympathies  of  social  life, 
As  equals  and  companions,  whose  soft  hands 


173 

Press  the  first  seal  upon  the  waxen  mind 

Of  Infancy,  who  reign  in  the  mild  sphere 

Of  sweet  domestic  pleasure,  bearing  still 

The  birthright  of  each  tender  courtesy 

And  hope  refin'd,  think  of  your  humbled  sex, 

'Mid  those  degraded  tribes  the  lowest  still, 

Bearers  of  burdens,  tillers  of  the  earth, 

Cut  off  from  every  joy  reciprocal  440 

That  sweetens  life,  and  so  opprest  with  woe 

As  in  despairing  horror  to  destroy 

Their  female  offspring,  lest  they  too  should  share 

Their  servitude  and  misery — oh  think, 

Think  of  these  sisters!  think  of  that  blest  word, 

That  pure  religion,  which  has  rais'd  your  lot 

To  what  it  is,  and  if  warm  Pity  move 

The  tear,  the  wish  to  rescue  from  despair 

But  one  sad  suffering  slave,  if  Love  inspire 

To  follow  Him  who  went  to  seek  the  lost,  450 

Oh  speak,  and  it  is  done. 

And  ye,  dear  youth, 

O'er  whose  fair  brows  the  light  of  knowledge  plays 
In  bright  intelligence,  whose  opening  minds 
Like  some  pure  rose-bud  crystalline  with  dew 
Are  shelter'd  in  the  gentle  bow'r  of  Love, 
15* 


174 

Remember  those  who  heard  no  cradle  hymn 

Of  peace  and  mercy,  on  whose  infant  hearts 

No  mild  instruction  stamp'd  a  holy  trace, 

But  ignorance  and  vile  example  left 

Their  wandering  impression.     While  you  learn        460 

The  various  arts  to  grace  and  comfort  life. 

While  in  the  circle  of  your  friends  you  sit 

Around  your  teachers,  while  your  hearts  respond 

<{  Behold  how  pleasant,  and  how  good  it  is 

Thus  to  he  hound  in  unity;"  oh  think 

Of  that  untutor'd  race,  who  hear  no  sound 

To  rouse  the  rnind  from  indolence,  or  save 

Its  long  perverted  pow'rs,  nor  docile  bend 

To  that  blest  Education  which  prepares 

For  duties,  and  for  trials,  and  for  wounds  470 

In  life's  uncertain  warfare,  for  the  joy 

That  gilds  its  close,  and  for  the  victor's  crown  : 

Which  from  the  mental  garden  wise  removes 

Those  roots  of  bitterness  that  choke  the  growth 

Of  nobler  plants,  and  by  the  timely  change 

Of  sun-beam  and  of  dew,  of  transient  frowns 

And  gentleness,  essays  to  imitate 

The  discipline  of  Heav'n.     And  when  you  hear 

The  rude  storm  beating  o'er  your  peaceful  home, 


175 

When  round  the  social  board,  the  cheerful  fire,         480 

A  happy  band  you  draw,  will  you  not  think 

Amid  your  gratitude,  of  those  who  roam 

O'er  the  cold  mountains,  homeless  and  distrest, 

Meagre  with  famine,  and  but  ill-conceal'd 

By  tatters  from  the  blast  ? 

Mark  o'er  our  land, 

How  Childhood's  bounty  strives  to  meliorate 
Their  sufferings  ;  how  the  bands  of  youth  unite 
In  beauteous  circles,  bound  by  wreaths  of  Love, 
O'er  Generosity's  rich  robe  to  cast 
Their  sparkling  gems  like  stars,  and  tesselate  490 

Her  golden  pavement.     Like  the  chosen  race 
Thronging  innumerous  tovv'rd  the  promis'd  land, 
They  urge  their  lingering  kindred,  "  Haste  with  us, 
And  we  will  do  thee  good  ;"13   for  he  who  form'd 
Our  souls,  linking  their  duties  with  their  joys, 
Shows,  that  in  blessing  others,  is  our  bliss. 
Let  Industry,  let  Self-denial  pour 
Their  limpid  rills  to  swell  the  sacred  tide 
Of  wide  Benevolence,  and  find  their  gifts 
Enrich  themselves.     Retrench  some  glittering  toy,  500 
Some  tinsel  trapping,  some  luxurious  taste, 
And  lay  the  silent  trophy  at  the  shrine 


176 

Of  that  pure  Charity  which  "  vaunteth  not, 

Nor  boasteth  of  her  deeds."     Perchance  your  ear 

From  Brainerd's  cultur'd  bound,  from  Eliot's  shades. 

From  wild  Tallony's  unfrequented  dales, 

From  Dwight  (dear,  hallow'd  name!)  may  catch  the  tone 

Of  gratitude  to  Christians,  for  some  boon 

Which  you  have  toil'd  to  aid.     E'en  on  the  shore 

Of  fair  Ceylon,  or  the  far  Sandwich  isles,  510 

Round  whose  green  coast  the  vast  Pacific  roars, 

Mid  Gambia's  injured  natives,  or  the  vales 

Of  murmuring  Senegal,  some  grateful  child 

May  muse  and  ponder  o'er  that  holy  book 

Which  you  have  giv'n.     Perchance,  on  Ganges'  banks 

Some  infant,  rescu'd  from  the  whelming  tide 

Or  from  its  fathers  knife,  may  kneeling  pour 

Praise  to  Jehovah.     Oh  !  to  snatch  one  mind 

From  ruin's  wreck,  one  soul  from  deadly  vice, 

Is  it  not  better  than  to  flaunt  in  pride  520 

Of  wealth,  a  few  short  years,  then  fade  unmourn'd, 

As  an  unodorous  flovv'r?     When  like  the  gale 

Thrilling  the  harp  of  Eol,  rushing  thoughts 

Controul  your  spirit,  moving  it  to  give 

Freely  as  ye  receive,  remember  them 

For  whom  my  lay  entreats.     And  when  you  muse 


177 

At  parting  clay,  or  when  the  heavier  shades 
Announce  soft  slumber,  and  attune  the  soul 
To  meek  Devotion,  bear  them  on  your  prayers. 

Ye  too,  who  hang  over  your  cradled  sons,         530 

With  silent  rapture,  Parents !  who  survey 

The  daily  change  of  those  unfolding  minds, 

And  snowy  brows,  who  sometimes  pensive  muse 

On  the  bold  tempters,  and  dark  snares  that  throng 

Their  untried  journey,  view  the  mighty  tide 

Of  population,  ever  rolling  west, 

And  meditate,  perchance,  a  few  short  years 

That  raise  these  young  shoots  into  sapplings  tall, 

May  plant  them  on  our  frontiers.     Think  once  more  ; 

The  Indians  are  their  neighbours,  deeply  stung         540 

With  sense  of  wrong,  and  terrible  in  wrath, 

What  shall  restrain  their  hatchets  ?     Who  shall  quell 

Their  midnight  conflagration  ?     Who  preserve 

Those  polish'd  temples  from  the  glaring  knife 

Temper'd  in  blood  ?     What  helmet  shield  their  heads 

From  the  keen  Tomahawk  ?     Oh  !  make  these  foes 

Your  friends,  your  brethren,  give  them  the  mild  arts 

Social  and  civiliz'd,  send  them  that  Book 

Which  teaches  to  forgive,  implant  the  faith 

That  turns  the  raging  vulture  to  the  dove,  550 


178 

And  with  these  deathless  bonds  secure  the  peace 
And  welfare  of  your  babes. 

Oh  thouj  whose  hand 

Temperate  and  just,  doth  guide  our  helm  of  state 
On  its  majestic  course,  steering  so  wise 
'Tween  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  that  their  wrath 
Forgets  to  vex  the  long-resounding  deep, 
Shunning  those  quicksands  where  Ambition  wrecks, 
And  from  the  vortex  where  wild  Rashness  whirls 
In  fatal  revolution,  bearing  safe 

The  burden  of  an  Empire's  vast  concerns,  560 

Ruler  of  Freedom's  favour'd  clime,  where  beam 
Bright  emanations  on  each  gazing  eye 
From  the  fair  dome  of  Knowledge,  like  the  flame 
Whose  spiry  column  pointed  Israel's  path, 
Son  of  that  State,  whose  matron  arm  embrac'd 
Great  Washington,  and  mark'd  with  glowing  pride 
The  scroll  of  glory  brighten  with  the  names 
Of  her  illustrious  offspring — thou,  whose  heart 
Gathering  the  groans  of  our  rejected  tribes, 
Compassionate  dev7is'd  their  good,13  and  led  570 

Thro'  gushing  tears  their  filial  glance  to  thee, 
Oh  !  still  uphold  their  weakness,  still  extend 
O'er  the  drear  desert  of  their  wretchedness, 


179 

The  banner  of  thy  wisdom,  till  their  minds, 

Freed  from  debasing  fetters,  twine  the  arts 

Of  civilization,  with  the  hopes  sublime 

Of  pure  Christianity  :  so  shall  the  voice 

Of  just  posterity  exalt  thy  fame 

Above  the  blood-stain'd  hero,  and  enshrine 

Thine  image  in  the  consecrated  dome  580 

Of  blest  Philanthropy. 

My  Country !   Rouse 

From  thy  deep  trance !  Divide  the  long-drawn  veil 
Of  thy  lethargic  slumbers,  and  perceive 
Britannia's  bright  example  ;   she  who  said 
To  Africa,  "  Be  free."     Awake,  and  hear 
From  Heaven's  high  arch  the  awful  question  break,, 
"  Where  is  thy  brother  ?"     Wilt  thou  turn  away, 
Answering,  "  I  know  not !"  with  concealment  vain, 
Or  arrogantly  asking,  "  Why  should  1 
Be  made  my  brother's  keeper  ?"  590 

View  the  day 

Of  retribution  !  Think  how  thou  wilt  bear 
From  thy  Redeemer's  lips  the  fearful  words, 
<:Thy  brother,  perishing  within  thy  gates, 
Thou  saw'st.     Thy  brother  hunger'd,  was  athirst, 
Was  naked,  and  thou  saw'st  it.     He  was  sick, 


180 

And  thou  withheld'st  the  healing  :  was  in  prisoa, 
To  Vice  and  Ignorance,  nor  did'st  thou  send 
To  set  him  free."     Oh  !  ere  that  hour  of  doom 
Whence  there  is  no  reprieve,  my  Country,  wake 
From  thy  dark  dream  !  600 

Blot  from  th'  accusing  scroll 
Those  guilty  traces,  with  repentant  tears  : 
Teach  thy  red  brother  in  the  day  of  wrath 
To  stand  before  the  Judge,  and  plead,  "Forgive! 
Forgive  !  For  he  hath  sent  thine  holy  word, 
Hath  told  me  of  a  Saviour,  and  diffus'd 
The  day-beam  o'er  my  darkness.     His  kind  voice 
Taught  me  to  call  thee  Father.      Oh  !  forgive 
Those  earthly  wrongs  which  he  hath  well  aton'd 
By  pointing  me  to  Heaven." 

The  time  of  Hope, 

And  of  probation,  speeds  on  rapid  wing,  610 

Swift  and  returnless.     What  thou  hast  to  do, 
Do  with  thy  might.     Haste  !  lift  aloud  thy  voice, 
And  publish  on  the  borders  of  the  pit, 
The  resurrection.     Bid  thy  heralds  bear 
To  thy  own  wilds,  Salvation.     Strike  the  harp 
Of  God's  high  praises  mid  thy  deserts  lone, 
And  let  thy  mountains  speak  them.     Lo  !  they  rise 


181 

Wafted  on  every  gale.     From  Afric's  sands, 

From  chill  Siberia,  from  the  restless  wave 

Of  turbid  Ganges,  from  the  spicy  groves,  620 

And  from  the  sea-green  islands.     Rise!  and  spread 

That  name  which  must  be  borne  from  sea  to  sea, 

And  from  the  river  to  the  utmost  bounds 

Of  the  wide  world.     Then,  when  the  ransom*d  come 

With  gladness  unto  Zion,  thou  shah  joy 

To  hear  the  vallies  and  the  hills  break  forth 

Before  them  into  singing  ;  thou  shah  join 

The  raptur'd  strain,  exulting  that  the  Lord 

Jehovah,  God  Omnipotent,  doth  reign 

O'er  all  the  Earth. 

16 


NOTES 


TO 


V2R8V 


Note  1. — Line  7. 

"  To  where  Magellan  lifts  his  torch  to  light 

The  meeting  of  the  waters." 

The  island  of  Terra  del  Fuego,  having  received  its  name  of  "  Land  of 
Fire,"  from  the  number  of  volcanoes  which  diversify  its  desolate  region, 
may  well  be  represented  under  the  metaphor  of  Torch-bearer  to  th« 
Oceans,  as  they  rush  to  mingle  their  waves. 

Note  2. — Line  73. 

"  Of  brother,  or  of  sou,  untimely  slain 

In  the  dread  battle." 

The  custom  which  prevails  among  the  aboriginal  Americans,  of  adopt 
ing  a  captive  foe  in  the  place  of  some  near  relative,  who  has  fallen  in 
battle,  is  well  known.  The  affection  thus  transferred,  is  said  to  be  sin 
cere  and  ardent,  and  extinguished  only  with  life.  They  have  been  styled 
the  most  revengeful,  the  most  implacable  of  savage  nations.  Yet  this 
practice,  peculiar  to  themselves,  seems  rather  to  prove,  that  the  habits 
arising  from  natural  affection  are  .stronger  than  the  suggestions  of  revenge. 
Among  civilized  nations,  in  every  age,  the  adoption  of  children  has  pre 
vailed  ;  but  it  has  been  circumscribed  either  by  the  limits  of  affinity,  the 
predilection  of  friendship,  or  the  excitement  of  compassion.  When  was 
it  known  to  be  extended  to  mortal  foes,  even  by  Christians,  who  are 
bound  to  requite  enmity  with  love  ?  Where,  among  the  followers  of 


184 


Him,  with  whose  death-pang  was  mingled  a  prayer  for  his  murderers,  has 
the  shelter  of  paternal  kindness  been  the  portion  of  the  enemy,  whose 
sword  had  drank  the  blood  of  the  lost  son  ?  or  the  offices  of  fraternal 
affection  been  extended  to  him  who  had  pierced  the  breast  of  the  lamented 
brother  ?  Among  the  ancient  Egyptians,  Assyrians,  and  Grecians, 
adoption  by  those  who  were  childless,  was  a  frequent  usage.  The  Ro 
mans  enacted  laws  for  its  regulation.  The  Lacedemonians  required  that 
it  should  be  performed  in  the  presence  of  their  kings.  The  Turk,  accord 
ing  to  the  appointed  ceremonies  of  Mahomet,  invests  the  adopted  with  his 
inner  garment,  or  with  his  girdle  ;  and  the  Gentoo  offers  sacrifices  to  his 
gods.  But  the  native  American  being  in  this  respect  "  without  law,  is  a 
law  unto  himself;"  he  adopts  the  foe  who  would  have  shed  his  blood, 
without  the  pomp  of  prescribed  ceremony,  and  with  no  sacrifice  but  that 
which  affection  exacts  of  vengeance.  In  other  instances,  we  behold  this 
race  capable  of  degrees  of  virtue,  as  unexpected  as  they  are  unparalleled. 
The  natives  of  Hascala,  a  populous  province,  bordering  upon  Mexico,  shock 
ed  at  the  cruelties  which  marked  the  intrusion  of  the  Spaniards,  attacked 
them  with  impetuous  bravery  and  with  vast  superiority  of  numbers.  But  the 
advantages  arising  from  these  circumstances,  were  entirely  lost  through  their 
solicitude  to  save  the  wounded  and  dying.  To  relieve  the  sufferers,  and  re 
move  them  from  further  barbarity,  divided  the  attention  of  the  warrior  even 
in  the  heat  of  battle;  and  a  scene  unknown  among  civilized  nations  was  dis 
played,  a  sentiment  of  tenderness  extinguishing  victory.  Afterwards,  the 
Hascalans,  meditating  another  attack,  generously  apprized  the  invaders 
of  their  hostile  intentions,  and  knowing  that  a  scarcity  of  provisions  ex 
isted  among  them,  sent  to  their  camp  a  large  supply  of  poultry  and  maize  ; 
"  Eat  plentifully,"  said  they,  "  for  we  scorn  to  attack  enemies  enfeebled 
by  hunger,  and  should  blush  to  offer  to  our  gods,  famished  and  emaciated 
victims."  Yet  these  sons  of  nature  had  never  heard  the  command,  "  If 
thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him  •,  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink." 

Note  3. — Line  101. 

"  Some  with  blood 

Of  human  sacrifices,  sought  to  apjiease"  &c. 

Although  the  Mexicans  were  further  advanced  in  refinement  than  any 
of  the  aborigines  of  America,  they  were  the  slaves  of  a  superstition  which 
was  marked  by  the  most  barbarous  sacrifices.  At  their  first  arrival  near 


185 

the  Late  of  Tetzuco,  from  their  ancient  possessions,  on  the  borders  of  the 
Californian  Gulf,  they  erected  on  the  spot  which  they  had  selected  for 
their  principal  city,  a  temple  to  their  tutelar  god,  which  they  consecrated 
by  the  effusion  of  human  blood.  This  event,  according  to  their  traditions, 
and  the  simple  annals  preserved  by  their  hieroglyph ical  paintings,  occurred 
in  the  year  1335  of  the  Christian  era.  Following  them  through  the  va 
riations  of  their  government,  from  its  original  form  of  aristocracy,  to  that 
of  elective  monarchy,  and  ultimate  despotism,  combined  with  the  feudal 
spirit,  we  see  the  same  stern  religion  preserving  its  sway  unaltered,  and 
mingling  with  their  civil  institutions.  Their  political  festivals  were  at 
tended  with  the  sacrifice  of  human  beings,  and  in  their  expiatory  offerings 
to  their  deities,  they  believed  that  "  without  shedding  of  blood  was  no  re 
mission."  During  the  reigns  of  Tizoc,  and  his  brother  Ahuitzotl,  a 
temple  was  erected,  which  surpassed  in  magnificence  all  the  structures  of 
Mexico,  and  at  its  completion  in  148G,  it  was  consecrated  with  the  blood 
of  more  than  60,OOO  prisoners.  Montezuma  II.  who  was  the  ninth 
Mexican  sovereign,  entered  into  a  war  with  some  neighbouring  tribes,  in 
order  to  obtain  victims  for  sacrifice  at  his  coronation,  and  the  cruel  pa 
geantry  of  that  scene  was  in  accordance  with  the  inclinations  of  his  sub 
jects.  The  funeral  rites  of  the  Mexicans  were  sanguinary,  particularly 
at  the  death  of  any  distinguished  personage.  At  the  decease  of  an  em- 
perour,  they  slew  a  number  of  his  principal  attendants,  and  buried  them  in 
the  same  tomb  ;  supposing,  like  the  ancient  Scythians,  that  he  would 
have  need  of  their  assistance  and  counsel.  The  rites  of  their  religion 
were  reduced  to  a  regular  system  ;  but  their  divinities  were  clothed  in 
vengeance,  and  their  priests  perpetuated  a  worship  of  gloom  and  terrour, 

Note  4.— Line  106. 

"  Some  with  fruits 

Sweet  Jtowcrtj  and  incense  of  their  choicest  herbs 

Sought  to  propitiate  Him"  &c. 

The  mild  Peruvians  who,  at  the  time  of  the  invasion  of  the  Spaniards, 
had  made  many  attainments  in  the  arts  of  civilization,  had  a  form  of  re 
ligion  whose  features  were  remarkably  free  from  harshness  and  barbarity. 
"  The  most  singular  and  striking  circumstance  in  their  government," 
says  Dr.  Robertson,  "  was  the  influence  of  religion  upon  its  genius  and 
laws.  The  whole  system  of  their  civil  policy  was  founded  upon  religion. 

10* 


186 

I'iie  Inca  appeared  not  only  as  a  legislator,  but  a  messenger  from 
Heaven.  The  superstitions  on  which  he  engrafted  his  pretensions  to 
high  authority,  were  of  a  very  different  character  from  those  established 
among  the  Mexicans.  By  directing  their  veneration  to  that  glorious  lu 
minary  which  by  its  universal  and  vivifying  energy  is  the  best  emblem  of 
divine  beneficence,  the  rites  and  observances  which  they  deemed  accepta 
ble  to  Him  were  innocent  and  humane.  They  offered  to  the  Sun  a  part 
of  the  productions  which  his  genial  warmth  had  called  forth  from  the 
bosom  of  the  earth,  and  fostered  to  maturity.  They  sacrificed,  as  an 
oblation  of  gratitude,  some  of  the  animals  who  were  indebted  to  his  influ 
ence  for  nourishment.  They  presented  to  him  choice  specimens  of  those 
works  of  ingenuity,  which  his  light  had  guided  the  hand  of  man  in  form 
ing  :  but  the  Incas  never  stained  his  altars  with  human  blood,  nor  con 
ceived  that  their  beneficent  father,  the  Sun,  would  be  delighted  with  such 
victims.  Accordingly,  the  Peruvians,  unacquainted  with  those  barbarous 
rites,  which  extinguish  sensibility,  and  suppress  the  feelings  of  nature  at 
human  sufferings,  were  formed  by  the  spirit  of  the  superstition  they  had 
adopted,  to  a  national  character  more  gentle  than  that  of  any  people  in 
America."  The  tribe  of  Chacmeheca's  who  succeeded  the  ancient  Tolte- 
•  an  monarchy,  which  was  situated  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Mexico,  also 
paid  homage  to  the  Sun,  as  their  tutelar  divinity,  and  offered  to  him  the 
herbs  and  flowers  which  they  found  springing  in  the  field.  The  Parent 
of  warmth  and  vegetation  appeared  to  their  untaught  minds,  as  the  Foun 
tain  of  existence  and  of  hope  ;  and  how  much  more  elevated  was  the 
choice  of  their  Paganism,  than  that  of  the  polished  Egyptians,  who,  in 
their  absurd  worship  of  vegetables,  noxious  reptiles,  and  the  lifeless  for 
mations  of  Nature,  clearly  evinced,  that  the  "  world  by  wisdom  knew  not 
God." 

Note  5.— Line  109. 

"  Some,  with  mystic  rites, 
The  ark,  the  orison,  the  paschal  feast,"  &c. 

Such  a  marked  diversity  of  customs,  and  religious  rites,  is  found 
among  the  aborigines  of  America,  that  they  must  be  considered  as  the 
mingled  offspring  of  different  nations,  who  in  various  ages  have  become 
inhabitants  of  this  western  hemisphere.  The  Peruvians,  in  their  ancient 
offerings,  like  a  sect  of  the  Persians,  recognized  the  Sun  as  the  Parent  of 


187 

their  joys,  and  the  supreme  object  of  their  adoration.  Some  of  the  eastern 
tribes  of  South  America  preserve  a  tradition  that  their  ancestors  migrated 
from  the  African  continent.  The  Toltecas,  originally  bordering  upon 
Mexico,  and  celebrated  for  their  superiour  knowledge,  which  comprised 
some  branches  of  agriculture,  together  with  the  art  of  cutting  gems,  and 
casting  gold  and  silver  into  various  forms,  possessed  some  ancient  paint 
ings,  which  represented  the  passage  of  their  ancestors  through  Asia,  and 
the  north-western  countries  of  America.  The  Mexicans  who,  in  the 
barbarity  of  their  religious  sacrifices,  point  to  the  blood-stained  altars  of 
Carthage,  in  the  style  of  their  architecture,  the  construction  of  pyramidal 
edifices,  the  use  of  hieroglyphicks,  and  the  mode  of  computing  time,  lead 
us  back  to  the  institutions  of  ancient  -Egypt.  This  similarity  has  so  for* 
ribly  impressed  the  minds  of  some  learned  writers,  particularly  Siguenza,  « 
and  Bishop  Huet,  that  they  have  designated  the  Mexicans  as  the  descend 
ants  of  Naphtahim,  the  son  of  Mizraim,  and  nephew  of  Ham.  The  Es 
quimaux  recognizes  his  sires  in  the  north  of  Europe,  and  by  a  variety  of 
customs  proves  his  affinity.  The  Mohawks,  from  the  peculiarity  of  their 
language,  composed  entirely  without  labials,  so  that  they  never  close  their 
lips  in  speaking,  and  from  the  superiority  which  they  assumed  over  the 
surrounding  tribes,  seem  also  to  claim  a  distinct  origin.  The  Abbe  Cla- 
vigero  supposes  that  the  ancestors  of  those  nations  who  peopled  the  coun 
try  of  Anahuac,  passed  from  the  northeastern  parts  of  Asia  to  the  western 
extremity  of  America.  Amid  the  variety  of  customs  which  distinguish 
the  different  tribes,  some  have  been  observed  so  similar  to  those  of  ancient 
Israel,  that  they  have  given  rise  to  conjecture,  that  some  of  the  ten  tribes, 
who,  after  the  Assyrian  invasion  in  721,  (B.C.)  were  long  in  a  wandering 
state,  might  have  been  allured  to  pass,  with  other  emigrants,  the  narrow  strait 
which  separates  the  Old  from  the  New  World.  This  opinion  received 
strength  from  the  circumstance,  that  among  some  of  the  natives,  the  name 
of  their  Supreme  Being  was  "  Tehewah,"  evidently  resembling  the  He 
brew  Jehovah,  that  the  word  "  Hallelujah,"  occurred  in  their  songs  of 
praise,  that  they  bear  upon  their  shoulders  to  battle  a  consecrated  Ark, 
which  is  never  suffered  to  touch  the  earth,  and  the  mysteries  of  whose  in 
terior  they  guard  with  the  most  jealous  care.  Traditions  of  the  murder 
in  Eden,  of  original  longevity,  the  general  deluge,  the  saving  of  the 
righteous  pair,  the  bird  sent  from  the  ark,  who  returned  with  a  verdant 


188 

branch,  the  confusion  of  tongues,  the  anger  of  the  Great  Spirit  at  the 
building  of  a  high  place,  which  the  pride  of  man  contemplated  should 
reach  the  heavens,  and  many  more,  evidently  derived  from  the  Scriptures, 
are  preserved  among  them.  Some  of  the  early  settlers,  who  had  an  oppor 
tunity  of  observing  their  character  before  its  debasement,  traced  in  their 
religious  offerings  and  festivals  a  similarity  to  the  Jewish  ritual.  Intelli 
gent  men,  who  have  resided  among  them  as  traders,  or  surveyed  them  as 
travellers  and  missionaries,  have  occasionally  gathered  traits  of  resemblance 
to  the  peculiar  people  ;  and  some  learned  men  have  been  inclined  to  credit 
this  hypothesis,  by  a  comparison  of  their  language  with  the  ancient  He 
brew.  "  Dr.  Buchanan,"  says  a  judicious  writer,  "  supposes  the  ten 
tribes  of  Israel,  to  be  now  in  the  country  of  their  first  captivity ;  but  this 
by  no  means  precludes  the  possibility  of  individuals  having  migrated  north 
ward  and  eastward  to  the  American  continent.  He  speaks  of  the  white 
and  the  black  Jews  of  Asia  •  we  know  that  there  are  also  white  Jews  in 
Europe,  and  black  Jews  in  Africa  ;  and  why,  since  they  are  the  scattered, 
the  distinguished  people,  may  there  not  be  red  Jews  in  America  ?" 

JVbte  6. — Line  121. 

"  The  crystal  tube 

Of  calm  inquiry,  to  thy  patient  eye, 

Meek  Houditwt  !  reveal* d  an  unknown  star 

Upon  this  western  cloud." 

This  refers  to  the  "  Star  in  the  West,"  a  work  which  attempts  to 
prove  the  descent  of  some  of  our  aborigines,  from  the  dispersed  Israelites  ; 
written  by  the  late  Hon.  Judge  Boud'mot,  the  venerable  Sire  and  Patron 
of  the  American  Bible  Society.  He  asserts,  that  if  the  descendants  of 
exiled  Israel  could  now  be  identified,  on  any  spot  of  the  globe,  we  should 
not  find,  after  the  revolution  of  twenty-five  centuries,  the  traces  of  similarity 
more  striking  ;  and  that,  admitting  the  affinity  of  our  roving  tribes  with 
the  peculiar  people,  it  would  be  impossible  not  to  be  surprised  at  perceiv 
ing  so  many  rites  and  traditions  unimyaired,  when  to  the  lapse  of  ages  is 
added  the  absence  of  a  written  language,  of  a  temple,  of  a  regular  govern 
ment,  even  of  a  permanent  abode,  and  the  vice,  degradation,  and  misery, 
which,  since  their  subjugation  by  the  Europeans,  has  involved  them  in  a 
darkness  like  midnight.  He  is  strengthened  in  his  theory  by  a  passage 
from  the  Apocrypha,  where  Esdrss  "  in  his  vision  beheld  the  ten  tribes 


189 

who  were  carried  captive  by  Shalmanezer,  in  the  time  of  Hosea  their  king, 
taking  counsel  to  leave  the  multitude,  and  go  into  a  country'  where  man 
kind  never  dwelt,  that  they  might  keep  the  statutes  which  they  never 
kept  in  their  own  land,  and  remain  there  until  the  latter  times."— 2  Es- 
dras,  xiii.  40. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Jarvis,  in  his  interesting  "  Discourse  on  the  Religion 
of  the  Indian  Tribes,"  supposes  them  to  be  the  descendants  of  Noah,  who 
migrated  to  this  continent,  after  the  great  dispersion  of  mankind.  This 
theory,  which  accounts  for  many  of  the  traditions  preserved  among  them, 
is  also  adopted  by  Mr.  Faber,  so  well  known  by  his  learned  dissertations 
on  the  Prophecies. 

Note  l.—Une  172. 

"  Their  weak,  exhausted  hands  they  prcst 
On  their  ivan  lips,  and  in  the  lowly  dust 
Laid  them  despairing." 

Missionaries  and  traders  have  occasionally  observed  among  the  different 
tribes,  the  custom  of  pressing  the  hand  upon  the  lips,  and  laying  the 
mouth  in  the  dust,  in  cases  of  deep  bereavement.  Some  have  supposed 
it  the  dictate  of  Nature  in  the  humiliation  of  suffering.  Others  have 
traced  in  it  a  resemblance  to  the  expression  of  grief  in  ancient  Israel ;  and 
have  been  reminded  of  the  passages  in  Job,  Solomon,  and  Jeremiah  : 
"  Mark  me,  and  be  astonished,  and  lay  your  hand  on  your  mouth  .-" 
"Behold,  I  am  vile  !  what  shall  I  answer  thee '  I  will  lay  my  hand 
upon  my  mouth  :"  "  If  thou  hast  done  foolishly,  in  lifting  up  thyself,  or 
if  thou  hast  thought  evil,  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  mouth."  "  He  putteth 
his  mouth  in  the  dust,  if  so  be,  there  may  be  hope." 

Note.  8. — Line  186. 

"  To  the  poor  Greenlander  reveaVd  the  dance 

Of  happy  spirits^ 

The  imagination  of  the  inhabitants  of  Greenland  traces  in  the  Aurora 
Borealis,  the  dance  of  sportive  souls.  They  suppose  the  place  of  torment 
for  the  wicked  to  be  in  the  subterranean  regions,  where  darkness  and  ter- 
rour  reign,  without  hope.  They  believe  in  two  Great  Spirits,  the  good 
and  the  evil,  and  in  various  subordinate  grades  of  ethereal  beings,  resem 
bling  the  major  and  minor  gods  of  the  ancient  heathens.  "When  a  friend 
is  in  the  conflict  of  death,  they  array  him  in  his  best  apparel,  and  when 


190 

the  last  change  has  marked  his  countenance,  bewail  his  loss,  and  prepare 
for  his  interment.  They  deposit  in  his  grave  instruments  of  labour,  and 
darts  for  defence,  and  returning  to  the  house  of  mourning,  the  men  sit 
silent  with  uncovered  faces,  while  the  females  prostrate  themselves  on  the 
earth.  The  nearest  relative  pronounces  an  eulogy  on  the  virtues  of  the 
departed,  and  at  every  pause  their  grief  becomes  more  audible.  The 
ceremonies  of  mourning  are  continued  at  intervals  for  months,  and  some 
times  for  a  year  ;  though  its  bitterness  diminishes  after  the  period  which 
they  allot  for  the  perilous  journey  to  the  eternal  regions.  They  believe 
that  the  spirits  of  the  departed  are  occasionally  permitted  to  revisit  the 
earth,  and  reveal  themselves  to  the  former  objects  of  their  attachment. 
Some  of  the  first  missionaries  who  visited  this  people,  supposed  that  the 
idea  of  a  Divine  Being  was  in  some  degree  familiar  to  their  minds,  since 
they  so  readily  received  the  knowledge  of  his  attributes,  and  the  most 
stupid  among  them  were  struck  with  horror  at  the  thought  of  the  annihila 
tion  of  the  soul. 

Note  9.— Line  208. 

"  Thus,  the  warlike  Earl 
Stern  Seward,  in  his  armour  bracd,  erect, 
Met  grisly  Death." 

Seward,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  feeling  in  his  last  sickness,  that  dis 
solution  approached,  quitted  his  bed,  and  encircled  himself  with  his  armour. 
To  the  inquiries  of  his  attendants,  he  answered,  "  It  becometh  not  a 
brave  man  to  die  like  a  beast."  Standing,  and  with  an  undaunted  coun 
tenance,  he  met  death,  closing  his  life  of  intrepidity,  by  an  act  equally 
singular  and  heroic. 

Note  10.— Line  214. 

"  Others  toward  the  East 
With  faces  turn'd,  repose." 

The  natives  of  Patagonia  bury  their  dead  on  the  eastern  shores,  and 
with  their  faces  turned  toward  the  rising  Sun,  where  they  say  was  the 
country  of  their  ancestors.  Bougainville,  and  others,  have  suggested 
Jheir  resemblance  to  the  roving  Tartars.  Like  them  they  traverse  im 
mense  plains,  constantly  on  horseback,  clothing  themselves  with  the  skins 
ef  wild  beasts,  which  they  destroy  in  the  chase,  and  occasionally  pillaging 
travellers,  who  cross  their  path,  or  interrupt  their  career. 


191 

Note  I1'.— Line  219. 

'*  Weed  nor  thorn, 

Might  choke  the  young  turf  springing." 

"  Among  some  of  our  aborigines,  the  graves  of  departed  friends  are 
guarded  with  the  most  delicate  and  jealous  affection.  They  suffer  n« 
weeds  to  take  root  upon  them,  and  frequently  visit  them  with  lamenta 
tions.  This  tender  and  sacred  sentiment  is  expressed  in  an  effusion  of 
simple  eloquence,  which  bears  the  antiquity  of  nearly  200  years.  In  one 
of  the  earliest  records  of  the  settlement  of  Massachusetts,  it  is  mentioned 
that  the  Indian  monuments  of  the  dead  had  been  defaced  by  the  whites  at 
Passonagessit,  and  the  grave  of  the  Sachem's  Mother  plundered  of  some 
skins  that  had  decorated  it.  Gathering  together  his  people,  in  the  first 
moments  of  his  grief  and  indignation,  he  thus  addressed  them  :  "  When 
last  the  glorious  light  of  this  sky  was  underneath  the  globe,  when  the 
birds  grew  silent,  I  began  to  settle,  as  my  custom  is,  to  take  my  repose. 
But  ere  my  eyes  were  fast  closed,  I  saw  a  vision  at  which  my  soul  was 
troubled.  As  I  trembled  at  the  fearful  sight,  a  spirit  uttered  its  voice  : — 
'  Behold  !  my  Son,  whom  I  have  cherished.  See  the  hands  that  covered, 
and  fed  thee  oft.  Wilt  thou  forget  to  take  revenge  of  those  wild  people, 
who  have  disturbed  my  ashes,  disdaining  our  sacred  customs  ?  See  now ! 
the  Sachem's  grave  lies,  like  one  of  the  common  people's,  defiled  by  an 
ignoble  race.  Thy  Mother  doth  complain.  She  implores  thine  aid 
against  this  thievish  people,  newly  intruding  themselves  into  our  land.  If 
this  be  suffered,  can  I  rest  quietly  in  my  everlasting  habitations  ?'  Then 
the  Spirit  vanished,  and  I,  trembling,  and  scarce  able  to  speak,  began  to 
get  some  strength,  and  recollect  my  thoughts  that  had  fled,  determining 
to  ask  your  counsel  and  assistance." 

Note  \cZ.—Line  224. 

"  Thus  the  Scythian  tribes 

Wandering  without  a  City,  calfd  to  guard 

Nor  dome,  nor  temple,  took  their  dauntless  stand 

Upon  their  fathers1  sepulchres,"  &c. 

Rollin,  in  his  interesting  history  of  the  expedition  of  Darius  against 
•the  Scythians,  relates  the  embarrassment  which  he  suffered  in  being  unable 
to  bring  that  roving  people  to  a  regular  engagement.  "  Prince  of  the 
Scythians,"  said  he, "  why  do  you  continually  fly  before  me  ?"  "  If  I  fly 


192 

before  thee,  Prince  of  Persia,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  not  because  I  fear  thee. 
We,  Scythians,  have  neither  cities  or  lands  to  defend  :  yet  come  !  attack 
the  tombs  of  our  fathers,  and  thou  shalt  find  what  manner  of  men  we  are.*' 
Soon  after,  they  exemplified  another  singular  trait  of  character,  by  send 
ing  a  herald  to  Darius,  with  a  present  of  a  bird,  a  mouse,  a  frog,  and  five 
arrows.  The  monarch  exclaimed  with  joy,  "  Now  they  acknowledge 
subjection,  and  by  these  emblems  yield  to  me  the  dominion  of  their  lands 
and  waters,  of  their  warriors,  and  even  of  the  atmosphere  they  breathe.'3 
But  Gobryas,  one  of  his  officers,  who  was  better  versed  in  the  hiero 
glyphics  of  Scythia,  correctly  interpreted  this  typical  message  :— "  Unless 
the  Persians  can  ascend  into  the  air  like  birds,  conceal  themselves  in  earth 
like  mice,  or  beneath  the  waters  like  frogs,  it  is  not  possible  for  them  to 
escape  the  Scythian  arrows." 

Note  13.— Line  257. 

"  Ericke  steer'd 

From  that  lone  isle  ivhich  Nature's  poising  hand 

Cast  "'tween  the  Continents." 

It  is  generally  admitted  that  the  northern  parts  of  America  were  settled 
by  the  Scandinavians,  several  centuries  before  the  expedition  of  Columbus. 
Ericke  Raude,  so  named  on  account  of  his  red  hair,  is  considered  as  the 
original  discoverer  of  those  inhospitable  regions.  Having  past  a  winter 
on  the  coast  of  Greenland,  he  returned  to  Iceland,  and  persuaded  many 
of  his  countrymen  to  accompany  him,  and  undertake  the  establishment  of 
a  colony.  He  assured  them  that  the  country  which  he  had  found,  abound 
ed  in  fish,  and  exhibited  such  a  verdant  appearance,  that  he  had  assigned 
it  the  name  of  Greenland,  or  Greenland.  Twenty-five  ships,  filled  with 
Icelanders  and  Norwegians,  attended  him  in  consequence  of  these  repre 
sentations  ;  but  it  is  said  that  only  fourteen  sustained  the  inclemencies  of 
the  voyage.  The  establishment  of  this  colony  bears  date,  according  to 
Torfaeus,  in  his  "  Groenlandia  Antiqua,"  in  the  year  982  ;  yet  it  would 
seem  to  have  been  of  earlier  origin,  by  the  bull  of  Pope  Gregory  4th, 
issued  in  835,  and  committing  the  conversion  of  the  Greenlanders  and 
Icelanders,  to  the  first  northern  apostle,  Ansgarius.  This  colony  as 
sumed  the  appearance  of  prosperity,  and  in  1261,  voluntarily  submitted 
to  the  sceptre  of  Norway,  and  was  governed  by  a  Norwegian  viceroy, 
according  to  the  laws  of  Iceland.  It  was  considerably  harassed  by  the 


natives,  who  were  denominated  "  Skrrellings,"  and  whose  origin  is  traced 
to  the  North  East  regions  of  Tartary.  Driven  from  their  country  by 
imperious  and  potent  enemies,  they  crossed  the  straits  of  Bherring,  and 
gradually  passing  to  the  east  and  north,  began  their  hostilities  against  the 
Icelandic  colony  in  the  eleventh  century.  They  gained  great  ascendancy 
over  it  about  the  year  1350,  when  it  had  been  enfeebled  by  the  ravages 
of  pestilence  ;  and  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  centuries  nearly  exter 
minated  it.  The  small  remnant  of  European  settlers  were  driven  from 
the  western  toward  the  eastern  shores,  and  compelled  to  incorporate  them 
selves  with  their  conquerors.  Some  of  them,  however,  retreated  to  the 
inlets  between  the  mountains,  and  like  the  Welch  still  preserve  the  cha 
racter  of  an  unconquered  people. 

Note  14.— Line  279. 

"  Sat/,  Daru'iu  !   Fancy's  son"-— 

Dr.  Darwin's  plan  of  navigating  southward  those  tremendous  masses 
of  ice,  which  for  ages  have  been  accumulating  amid  the  polar  regions,  in 
order  to  allay  the  fervour  of  the  tropics,  is  one  of  the  many  visionary  the 
ories  cf  that  splendid  poet  and  eccentric  philosopher. 

Note  15.— Line  289. 

"  Shaming  the  brief  dome 

IFhich  Russia's  empress-queen  bade  the  chill  buor 

Quench  life's  frail  lamp  to  rear." 

The  Ice  Palace,  erected  in  the  year  1740,  by  the  Empress  Anne,  oi 
Russia,  was  52  feet  in  length,  and  when  lighted  exhibited  the  most  splen 
did  appearance.  Yet  to  a  reflecting  mind,  its  brilliance  must  have  been 
dimmed  by  the  recollection,  that  many  lives  were  sacrificed  to  its  construc 
tion,  by  the  severity  of  cold.  The  description  of  this  singularly  beautiful 
structure,  by  the  poet  Cowper,  is  in  accordance  with  that  purity  and  elegant: 
simplicity,  which  characrerize  his  numbers. 

"  Silently,  as  a  dream  the  fabric  rose  ; 

No  sound  of  hammer,  or  of  saw  was  there  : 

Ice  upon  ice,  the  well-adjusted  parts 

Were  soon  conjoin'd  ;  nor  other  cement  ask'd 

Than  water  interfus'd,  to  make  them  one. 

Lamps  gracefully  dispos'd,  and  of  all  hues 

Illumin'd  every  side ;  a  watery  light 
17 


194 

Gleam'd  through  the  clear  transparency,  that  seem'd 
Another  moon  new  ris'n,  or  meteor  fali'n 
From  heaven  to  earth,  of  lambent  flame  serene. 
So  stood  the  brittle  prodigy,  though  r.mooth 
And  slippery  the  materials,  yet  frost-bound, 
Firm  as  a  rock.      Nor  wanted   aught  within 
That  royal  residence  might  well  betit, 
For  grandeur  or  for  use.      Long  wavy  wreaths 
Of  flowers  that  fear'd  no  enemy  but  warmth. 
Blush 'd  on  the  pannels. 

Mirror  needed  none, 

Where  all  was  vitreous  ;  but  in  order  due, 
Convivial  table,  and  commodious  seat, 
(What  seem'd  at  least  commodious  seat)  were  there  =~ 
Sofa,  and  couch,  and  high-built  throne  august. 
The  same  lubricity  was  found  in  all, 
And  all  was  moist  to  the  warm  touch  :   a  scene 
Of  evanescent  glory,  once  a  stream, 
And  soon  to  slide  into  a  stream  again." 

Note  16.—  Line  315. 

"  To  their  humble  cells 
Came  holy  men,   by  pious  Otaf's  zeal 
Wingd  on  their  mission." 

Olaf,  or  Olaus,  a  Norwegian  king,  having  renounced  heathenism,  sent 
a  priest  to  Greenland,  early  in  the  tenth  century  for  the  conversion  of  the 
inhabitants.  His  exertions  were  successful,  and  the  whole  colony  em 
braced  Christianity.  In  the  year  1 122,  they  chose  a  Norwegian  bishop, 
and  a  regular  succession  in  the  Episcopacy  was  preserved,  until  the  year 
1 406,  when  the  last  of  seventeen  bishops  was  sent  over.  Darkness  for 
a  time  overspread  the  religious  prospects  of  this  people  ;  like  that  which 
enveloped  ancient  Israel,  when  the  harp  of  prophecy  was  broken  in  the 
hand  of  Malachi,  and  for  more  than  three  centuries  there  was  no  divine 
..•ommunication.  But  in  the  year  1721,  a  pious  clergyman  of  Norway, 
by  the  name  of  Hans  'Egede,  whose  heart  had  long  been  moved  by  the 
wretchedness  of  the  Greenb.ncU'rs,  resolved,  notwithstanding  the  obstruc 
tions  that  were  cast  in  the  way  of  his  enterprise,  to  bear  to  that  inhospita- 


195 

ble  region  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  He  was  accompanied  by  about 
forty  adventurers,  who  aided  him  in  imparting  a  knowledge  of  those  arts 
which  advance  the  comfort  of  the  present  life  ;  while,  with  the  most  con 
descending  attention,  the  most  faithful  diligence,  and  under  the  pressure 
of  almost  unexampled  hardships,  he  taught  the  precepts  of  a  religion, 
whose  benevolenee  he  exemplified.  After  sustaining  the  arduous  duties 
of  a  missionary  almost  forty  years,  he  closed  his  honouiable  and  pious 
life,  at  the  age  of  seventy-three,  and  to  him,  and  to  his  son,  Paul  Egede, 
we  are  indebted  for  an  ample  and  authentic  account  of  modern  Greenland. 
The  Moravians  also,  whose  zeal  in  diffusing  the  blessings  cf  religion,  can 
not  be  too  highly  appreciated,  extended  the  exertions  of  their  Christian 
love  to  this  desolate  region.  Perhaps  it  is  without  parallel  in  the  annals 
of  benevolence,  that  a  Society  so  restricted  in  pecuniary  resources,  so 
afflicted  by  persecution  as  to  have  been  reduced  to  about  six  hundred  indi 
viduals,  should  display  the  missionary  spirit  in  such  unbroken  strength 
and  splendour.  After  the  oppressions  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  when  they 
had  taken  refuge  on  the  estates  of  Count  Zinzendorf  in  Lusutia,  they 
sent,  in  the  space  of  nine  years,  missionaries  to  Greenland,  to  South-Ame 
rica,  to  Algiers,  to  Guinea,  to  Lapland,  to  the  West-Indian  and  Nicobar 
islands,  to  Ceylon,  to  the  extremities  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  r.nd  to 
the  wilds  of  Tartary.  About  the  year  1733,  when  the  mission  of  Mr. 
Egede  was  so  coldly  patronized  by  government,  and  so  overclouded  by 
misfortune,  that  it  seemed  ready  to  expire,  the  Moravians  having  resolved 
to  carry  the  gospel  to  Greenland,  two  of  their  venerable  messengers  ar 
rived  on  foot  at  Copenhagen,  entreating  permission  to  accomplish  their 
design.  "  How,"  said  one  of  the  ministers  of  the  crown  of  Denmark, 
"  do  you  hope  to  maintain  yourselves  in  that  desolate  region  ?"  "  By 
the  labour  of  our  hands,"  they  answered,  "  and  by  the  blessing  of  God. 
We  will  build  a  house,  and  cultivate  a  piece  of  land,  that  we  may  not  be 
burdensome  to  any."  The  nobleman,  perceiving  that  they  were  not  fully 
acquainted  with  the  sterility  of  the  country,  replied,  "  There  is  no  timber 
there  to  build  with."  "  Then,"  said  these  devoted  servants  of  the  cross, 
"  we  will  dig  a  cavern  in  the  earth,  and  lodge  there."  These  faithfuH 
missionaries  with  others  who  from  time  to  time  were  sent  to  their  assis 
tance,  suffered  indescribably  from  the  rigours  of  the  climate,  and  the 
ravages  of  famine  and  pestilence.  Yet  nothing  extinguished  the  flame  ot 


196 

their  benevolence,  and  tbey  expressed  themselves  willing  to  prolong  their 
labours  until  death,  to  continue  "  to  believe  while  there  was  nothing  to 
be  seen,  to  hope  when  nothing  was  to  be  expected."  Soon  after  their 
arrival,  the  Small-Pox  was  communicated  by  a  Greenlander1  who  had  re 
turned  from  Europe,  and  it  assumed  so  malignant  a  form,  that  few  who 
were  seized  by  it,  survived  beyond  the  third  day.  Destitute  of  the  know- 
lodge  of  medicine,  and  of  the  comforts  which  alleviate  disease,  the  wretch 
ed  natives  stabbed  themselves,  or  plunged  into  the  sea,  to  put  a  period  to 
their  sufferings.  The  Moravians,  in  company  with  Mr.  Egede,  hastened 
from  place  to  place,  to  impart  assistance  or  consolation.  Empty  houses, 
and  unburied  corpses,  bleaching  on  the  snow,  every  where  shocked  their 
eyes.  On  one  island,  only  one  little  girl,  and  her  three  brothers,  survived. 
Their  father  had  buried  all  the  inhabitants,  and  finding  himself  and  his 
youngest  child  smitten  with  the  malady,  lay  down  in  a  grave,  with  the 
sick  infant  in  his  arms,  commanding  his  daughter  to  cover  them  with 
skins  and  stones,  that  their  bodies  might  not  be  devoured  by  ravens  and 
foxes.  In  1753,  the  severity  of  that  terrific  climate  was  heightened  to 
an  unusual  degree,  and  snow  fell  in  every  month  of  the  year.  In  March, 
the  cold  was  so  intense,  that  even  glass  and  stones  burst.  Famine  was 
the  consequence,  and  continued  till  1757,  when  it  surpassed  all  that  had 
ever  been  imagined  by  the  Europeans.  "  We  found,"  said  the  Missiona 
ries,  "  near  a  house  that  we  visited,  fifteen  persons  nearly  starved  to 
death.  They  lay  near  each  other,  striving  to  preserve  warmth,  for  they 
had  no  fire,  nor  the  least  morsel  to  eat.  For  very  faintness  they  did  not 
care  to  lift  up  themselves,  or  to  speak  to  us.  Four  of  their  children  were 
already  dead  with  hunger.  At  length  a  man  brought  a  fish  from  the  sea, 
and  a  girl  snatched  it,  raw  as  it  was,  and  tore  it  in  pieces  with  her  teeth, 
gorging  it  with  violence.  She  looked  pale  as  death,  and  was  ghastly  to 
behold.  We  distributed  among  them  our  small  pittance,  and  advised  them 
to  endeavour  to  remove  to  our  part  of  the  land."  Children  perished  in 
great  numbers  by  famine,  and  old  people  were  buried  alive  in  order  to  save 
the  food  that  they  would  have  consumed.  The  Missionaries  participated 
in  these  sufferings,  till  their  strength  was  exhausted,  and  their  constitutions 
debilitated,  yet  occasional  success  in  their  spiritual  work,  caused  them  to 
count  their  afflictions  light.  Settlements  were  formed  at  New  Herrnhut, 
Iv.chtenfels,  and  Lichtenau  ;  and  materials  for  two  churches  were  sent 


197 

them  from  Europe,  which  were  erected  and  partially  filled  with  worship 
pers.  In  the  year  1814,  more  than  1100  inhabitants  belonged  to  these 
three  settlements,  and  the  whole  population  of  Greenland  was  estimated 
nt  70OO.  Since  the  commencement  of  the  mission  by  Mr.  Egede,  which 
has  comprised  a  century,  the  number  baptized  is  computed  at  about  5000. 
The  extension  of  this  Note  by  an  interesting  extract  from  the  1 8th 
volume  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  will  be  forgiven  by  minds  who  have  felt 
solicitude  in  the  extension  of  truth,  or  sympathy  for  the  privations  of  its 
messengers.  It  is  a  forcible  delineation  of  the  feelings  of  a  missionary 
and  his  family,  during  the  gloom  and  loneliness  of  a  Greenland  winter, 
and  is  drawn  from  the  manuscripts  of  Saabye,  a  grandson  of  that  venerated 
apostle  Hans  Egede.  "  They  have  one  bright  epoch  ;  for  it  is  a  happy 
time,  when  the  ice  is  loosed  from  the  rocky  coast,  and  they  can  expect 
the  arrival  of  the  vessel  which  alone  reaches  their  solitude.  Often  de 
ceived  by  the  floating  Ice-berg,  forming  itself  in  mockery  into  the  shape 
of  their  friendly  visitant,  at  length  they  see  the  white  sails,  the  towering 
masts,  the  blessed  guest  riding  at  anchor  in  the  bay.  By  this  vessel  their 
wants  are  supplied.  The  active  and  pious  housewife  busies  herself  in 
arranging  the  stores  of  the  ensuing  twelvemonth.  There  are  letters  too, 
from  friends,  and  from  relations,  and  books,  and  newspapers;  and  banished 
as  they  are,  they  live  again  in  Denmark,  in  '  their  father-land.'  The 
hour  of  enjoyment  soon  glides  away  ;  the  ship  sails  j  the  Missionary  and 
the  partner  of  his  toils  remain  behind,  solitary  and  forsaken.  To  this 
season  of  sadness  succeeds  the  gloom  of  the  polar  night.  A  few  davs 
before  the  26th  of  November,  Saabye  was  accustomed  to  climb  the  hi^h 
rocks,  from  whence  at  noon  he  could  just  see  the  sun  shining  with  a  soft 
and  pallid  light  ;  and  then  the  sun  sank,  and  he  bade  farewell  to  the  eye 
of  creation  with  heaviness  and  grief.  Dubious  twilight  lingered  till  the 
beginning  of  December  ;  then  darkness  ruled.  The  stream  near  -which 
Saabye' s  house  was  situated,  roared  beneath  the  ice  ;  the  sea  dashed  and 
howled  over  the  rocks,  bursting  in  foam  against  his  windows,  and  the 
dogs  filled  the  air  with  long  continued  moans.  About  the  12th  of  Janu 
ary,  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun  glittered  on  the  rocks,  and  suddtnly  faded, 
like  the  high-raised  hopes  of  man." 
17* 


198 

Note  17.— Line  334. 

"Madoc  !  wandering  son 
Of  that  unconqucr'd  clime." 

From  researches  made  by  British  Antiquarians,  it  appears  that  tradi 
tions  exist  of  the  discovery  of  America,  by  Madoc  ap  Owen  Guyneth,  a 
Welch  Prince,  in  the  year  117'.  It  is  asserted  that  a  colony  was  plant 
ed  by  him,  west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  that  their  descendants  have  at 
various  times  been  recognized  by  travellers.  The  fact  has  been  recorded 
also,  by  the  ancient  poets  of  Wales,  and  the  celebrated  Mr.  Southey  has 
founded  upon  it  one  of  the  most  interesting  modern  epic  poems  in  the 
English  language.  In  Howel's  Letters,  volume  2,  page  71,  it  is  recorded, 
that  Madoc  ap  Owen,  Prince  of  Wales,  made  two  voyages  to  America,  at 
the  time  specified  :  and  the  Welsh  Cambria,  translated  into  English,  by 
H.  Lloyd,  contains,  in  its  225th  page,  the  reasons  which  induced  that 
Prince  to  undertake  such  an  expedition.  Some  modern  writers  have  em 
ployed  their  pens  in  this  investigation,  among  whom  are  Dr.  Williams, 
Rector  of  Sydenham,  and  the  Rev.  George  Burder,  late  of  Coventry, 
England. 

Note  IS.— Line  337, 

tc  The  treasured  minstrelsy 
Of  Taliesins  harp." 

Taliesin,  who  wrote  in  the  sixth  century,  was  one  of  the  most  cele 
brated  of  the  ancient  Welch  bards.  His  poems  have  been  highly  com 
mended  by  the  amateurs  of  the  old  Cambrian  minstrelsy.  The  affinity  of 
the  language  of  Wales  to  the  Hebrew,  has  rendered  its  study  interesting 
to  many  classical  scholars  ;  and  recently,  among  the  prizes  offered  in 
Jesus  College,  Oxford,  England,  for  the  best  six  Englynion,  on  a  passage 
of  Taliesin,  beginning  "  Cymru  fu,  Cymru  fydd."  The  early  taste  of 
the  Welch,  for  poetry  and  music,  is  well  known.  The  knowledge  of  the 
harp  was  considered  essential  to  the  character  of  a  prince  and  a  hero  ;  and 
the  bards  received  in  the  courts  of  their  kings  such  dignity  and  honour, 
as  Homer  asserts  were  enjoyed  by  Demodocus  and  Phemiusv  in  the  first 
ages  of  Greece. 


199 

Note  19.— Line  37(5. 

"  Perchance  in  his  lone  cell 
At  Valladvlid" 

Columbus  expired  in  obscurity,  at  Valladolid,  on  the  25th  of  May, 
1506,  in  his  59th  year,  exhausted  by  hardships  and  infirmities.  The 
discoverer  of  America,  like  the  conqueror  of  Mexico,  found  the  close  of 
his  days  rendered  wretched  by  the  persecution  of  enemies,  and  the  chilling 
indifference  of  those  from  whom  he  had  expected  patronage  and  consola 
tion. 

Note  20.— Line  386. 

"  Mark'd  thy  seers 
Mid  the  dim  vista  of  futurity 
Ought  like  the  step  of  Cortes  f " 

It  is  recorded  bv  Robertson,  that  an  opinion  prevailed  almost  univer«- 
sally  among  the  Mexicans,  that  some  dreadful  calamity  would  befall  their 
country,  by  means  of  formidable  invaders  who  should  come  from  regions 
towards  the  rising  sun.  Their  superstitious  credulity  saw  in  the  Spaniards 
the  instruments  of  that  fatal  revolution  which  they  dreaded,  and  this  in 
some  measure  accounts  for  the  success  of  Cortes,  with  his  ill-appointed 
force,  over  the  monarch  of  a  great  and  populous  empire. 

When  the  spoilers,  in  descending  from  the  mountains  of  Chalco,  caught 
their  first  view  of  the  vast  plain  of  Mexico,  interspersed  with  fertile  and 
cultivated  fields,  enriched  with  a  lake  resembling  the  sea  in  extent,  whose 
banks  were  encompassed  with  large  towns,  and  whose  bosom  was  beautified 
with  an  island,  where  rose  the  capital  city,  adorned  with  its  temples  and 
turrets,  they  were  impressed  at  once  with  a  conviction  of  the  great  wealth 
of  the  country,  and  with  an  irresistible  desire  to  possess  it.  After  the  hu 
miliating  death  of  Montezuma,  and  the  more  barbarous  subjugation  of 
Guatimozin,  the  imperial  city  yielded  to  its  conquerors,  August  21, 
1521,  after  sustaining  a  siege  of  75  days.  This  event,  the  most 
memorable  of  any  in  the  conquest  of  America,  preceded  the  death  of 
Cortes  25  years.  The  neglect  of  his  country  embittered  the  declining 
life  of  the  victor  ;  and  it  was  decreed,  that  the  punishment  of  his  injustice 
and  cruelty  should  be  inflicted,  not  by  the  vengeance  of  those  whom  he 
had  injured,  but  by  the  ingratitude  of  those  he  had  served. 


200 

Note  2 [.—Line  400. 

"  Deep  were  thy  prison  sighs, 
Ahatualpa." 

The  annals  of  the  crimes  of  man  are  darkened  with  no  blacker  instance 
of  perfidy,  than  that  of  Pizarro  to  the  unfortunate  monarch  of  Peru. 
Confiding  in  the  protestations  of  the  Spaniard,  he  advanced  to  the  distance 
of  a  league  from  his  city,  to  pay  him  a  visit  of  respect.  Pizarro  in 
structed  a  priest  to  proclaim  some  of  the  articles  of  the  Popish  faith, 
strangely  intermixed  with  the  claims  of  the  crown  of  Spain  upon  the  New 
World,  to  which  Ahatualpa  not  immediately  assenting,  the  desperado 
seized  him  as  his  prisoner,  and  gave  the  signal  of  assault  upon  his  followers. 

The  carnage  continued  till  the  close  of  day,  and  the  Peruvians,  unpre 
pared  for  combat,  and  ignorant  of  the  mode  of  European  warfare,  left 
4000  dead  upon  the  field,  without  scarcely  making  an  impression  upon 
the  phalanx  of  their  enemies.  The  imprisoned  Inca  made  liberal  offers 
for  his  ransom,  and  his  subjects,  like  those  of  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion, 
would  have  stripped  the  churches  of  their  consecrated  gold,  to  purchase 
liberty  for  their  beloved  sovereign.  The  apartment  in  which  he  was  con- 
fmed  was  22  feet  in  length  and  1 6  in  breadth,  and  Pizarro  demanded  that 
it  should  be  filled  with  vessels  of  gold,  as  high  as  he  could  reach.  The 
line  of  demarcation  was  drawn  upon  the  wall — the  Peruvians  hastened  to 
heap  the  gold  to  the  standard  which  avarice  had  prescribed,  but  with  abomi 
nable  treachery  the  Inca  was  detained  in  captivity.  He  was  brought  to 
a  mock  trial,  and  condemned  to  be  burnt  alive.  The  miserable  monarch 
was  offered,  at  the  place  of  doom,  that  alternative  which  is  allowed  the 
victims  of  the  "  Auto  da  fe,"  by  the  mercy  of  the  Inquisition,  to  confess 
the  Romish  faith,  and  be  strangled  at  the  stake,  or  continue  in  heresy, 
and  endure  the  anguish  of  the  flame.  Ahatualpa  bowed  to  the  baptismal 
font,  and  fell  an  immediate  victim  to  the  fury  of  those  who,  professing  the 
*'  name  of  Christ,  in  works  denied  him."  This  execrable  deed  was  per 
petrated  in  the  year  1533  ;  and,  on  the  26th  of  June  1541,  Pizarro  was 
destroyed  by  conspiracy  in  the  city  of  Lima.  The  record  of  his  fame  is 
stained  with  atrocious  barbarity ;  and  he  may  be  characterized,  as  the  in 
habitants  of  Melita  unjustly  designated  the  shipwrecked  apostle,  as  "  a 
murderer,  whom,  though  he  had  escaped  the  sea,  yet  vengeance  suffered 
not  to  live." 


201 
:22.— Line  421. 

"  The  Lusitanian  bands 
Came  flocking." 

The  discovery  of  Brazil  is  usually  placed  in  the  year  1500.  The 
honour  of  that  event  is  ascribed  to  Perez  Alvarez  Cabral,  a  Portuguese 
naval  commander.  He  originally  gave  it  the  name  of  Santa  Cruz,  but 
this  was  changed  to  Brazil,  by  King  Emmanuel.  The  derivation  of  the 
latter  name  is  from  Brasas,  a  Portuguese  word,  signifying  "  glowing  fire, 
or  a  red  coal,"  which  colour  resembles  that  produced  by  the  celebrated 
tree  "  ibiripitanga,"  commonly  called  Brazil  wood,  with  which  that  coun 
try  abounds. 

Mote  23.— Line  433. 

"  Snatch'd  fir  themselves  a  cold  Acadia,  white 
With  frost,  and  drifted  snow." 

Acadia,  the  original  name  given  by  the  French  to  Nova-Scotia,  was 
their  first  possession  in  the  New  World.  It  was  granted,  in  the  year 
1603,  to  De  Mons,  with  somewhat  indefinite  boundaries,  by  Henry  IV. 
of  France.  Settlements  were  made  in  Canada,  five  years  after,  by  the 
same  nation.  Quebec,  the  capital,  was  reduced  by  General  Wolfe  in 
1759,  the  year  after  his  conquest  of  Cape  Breton,  or  "  Isle  Royale." 
The  whole  of  Canada  was  ceded  to  Great-Britain,  by  the  treaty  at  Paris, 
in  17G3. 

Note  24. — Line  43C. 

'*  As  Nilus  'mid  the  Abyssinian  wastes 
Unseals  through  fringed  reeds  and  willows  dank 
His  azure  eyes  " 

The  small  source  whence  the  St.  Lawrence  takes  its  rise,  reminds  us 
of  the  two  parent  springs  of  the  Nile,  whose  size  Rollin  compares  to  that 
of  a  coach-wheel.  They  are,  he  remarks,  thirty  paces  distant  from  each 
other,  and  are  sometimes  called  eyes,  "  the  same  word,  in  Arabic,  signify 
ing  both  eye  and  fountain." 

Note  25.— Line  454. 

"  Poor  German  exile." 

The  emigration  from  Germany  to  the  United  States,  has  been  greater 
In  recent  times,  than  has  generally  been  imagined.  Only  in  the  short 


202 

period  included  between  July  12th,  1817,  and  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1818,  nineteen  vessels  arrived,  bringing  passengers  to  the  number  of 
6000.  They  were  of  every  age,  from  infancy  to  eighty  years,  and  many 
°^  them  so  Poor>  tkat  they  were  compelled  to  bind  themselves  out  for  a 
term  of  service,  to  defray  the  expenses  of  their  scantily  provided  passage. 
M.  von  Furstenwiirther,  who  was  officially  appointed  to  examine  the  situ 
ation  of  his  countrymen  who  had  emigrated  to  the  United  States,  reports, 
that  "  the  ships  made  use  of  in  this  service,  are  commonly  of  the  worst 
quality,  old  and  unseaworthy,  a»d  the  commanders  ignorant,  inexperienced, 
and  brutal.  I  was  on  board  of  a  vessel  at  the  Holder,  July  7th,  1817, 
which  had  formerly  been  a  Russian  ship  of  the  line,  which  a  Dutchman 
had  bought  for  the  sake  of  carrying  German  emigrants  to  Philadelphia. 
There  were  already  four  or  five  hundred  souls  on  board,  and  the  vessel 
was  not  to  sail  without  her  complement  of  passengers.  I  have  found  the 
misery  of  most  of  the  German  emigrants  greater,  and  the  condition  of  all 
more  forlorn  and  helpless  than  I  could  have  imagined.  A  ship  arrived 
from  Amsterdam  at  Baltimore,  in  the  summer  of  1817,  the  greater  part 
of  whose  passengers  had  not  paid  their  freight.  Two  families  were  bought 
by  free  negroes  in  Maryland,  but  the  Germans  resident  in  Baltimore 
were  so  disgusted,  that  they  immediately  rebought  them,  and  formed  an 
association  to  prevent  the  recurrence  of  any  such  degrading  abuse." 

"  Laws  have  been  passed  in  Philadelphia,"  says  the  North-American 
Review,  "  for  the  protection  of  German  redemptioners  ;  and  by  these  it 
was  established,  that  the  extreme  term  of  service,  in  ordinary  cases,  for 
adults,  is  four  years,  and  two  years  for  the  shortest  term.  Children  un 
der  four  years  old,  are  not  bound,  but  follow  their  parents  ;  males  over 
four,  are  bound  to  serve  till  they  are  21,  and  females  till  they  are  eighteen 
years  old." — Stern  realities,  to  those  who  parted  from  their  native  country 
with  the  expectation  of  finding  in  America  something  like  Eden  restored. 

Note  26.— Line  482. 

"  Still  thy  breast  conceals 
The  feudal  spirit." 

"  In  Germany  the  feudal  institutions  still  subsist  with  great  vigour. 
Its  great  princes  possess  all  the  feudal  privileges."— Robertson 's  Scotland. 


203 


27.— Line  494. 

"  The  form  of  Conde  gleams 
As  when  at  Jarnaz,  rising  o'er  his  ivounds." 

The  intrepid  Conde  approached  the  battle  of  Jarnac,  which  was  sustain 
ed  by  the  Huguenots  with  such  constancy  in  the  year  1569,  with  an  arm 
debilitated  and  in  a  state  of  suffering.  Entering  the  field,  his  leg  also  was 
broken,  by  the  accidental  rearing  of  the  horse  of  his  brother  in  law.  Ris 
ing  superior  to  pain,  he  exclaimed  to  his  followers,  "  Nobility  of  France  ! 
know,  that  the  prince  of  Conde,  with  an  arm  in  a  scarf,  and  a  leg  broken, 
fears  not  to  give  battle,  since  you  attend  him."  After  displaying  prodi 
gies  of  valour,  he  was  found,  exhausted  with  fatigue,  surrounded,  and 
taken  captive.  He  was  placed  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  by  those  who  had 
made  him  their  prisoner,  and,  while  in  this  defenceless  condition,  was  bar 
barously  shot  by  Montesquieu,  a  captain  in  the  guards  of  the  Duke  of 
Anjou,  whose  master  was  supposed  to  have  instigated  the  infamous  deed, 
from  motives  of  personal  animosity.  The  persecuted  Huguenots  ever 
cherished  with  tender  gratitude  the  memory  of  their  great  benefactor. 
We  may  trace  a  strong  expression  of  this  affectionate  sentiment,  in  the 
fact  recorded  by  Heriot,  in  his  "  travels  through  the  Canadas,"  that  the 
name  of  Conde  was  given,  by  the  early  French  settlers,  to  Lake  Superior, 
as  if  they  were  anxious  that  his  fame  should  find  a  monument  in  the  most 
magnificent  body  of  fresh  and.  pellucid  waters  which  the  globe  affords. 

JVore  2Q.—Line  505. 

"  His  eye  that  Hero  turnd 
Toward  the  New  World." 

It  is  well  known  that  Admiral  Coligny  had  contemplated  a  removal 
with  the  Huguenots,  where,  enjoying  liberty  of  conscience,  they  might  be 
enabled  without  dread  of  death  to  say,  "  after  the  way  which  ye  call  here 
sy,  so  worship  we  the  God  of  our  fathers."  Permission  had  actually  been 
accorded  him,  to  conduct  his  adherents  to  the  Floridas,  but  the  design 
was  deferred  until  the  commencement  of  hostilities  detained  him  to  exhibit, 
on  the  continent  of  Europe,  the  invincible  firmness  and  constancy  of  his 
character.  He  was  the  first  victim  of  the  diabolical  massacre  at  Parrs,  on 


204 

St.. Bartholomew's  day,  1572.  Having  been  previously  wounded  by  a 
hired  assassin,  and  disenabled  from  defending  himself,  he  was  murdered  in 
his  chamber  by  a  party  led  on  by  his  implacable  enemy,  the  Duke  of 

Guise. 


NOTES 


TO 


Note  1. — Line  24. 

"  —  still  their  eyes  were  bent 
In  the  dark  caverns  of  the  earth  to  grope 
For  drossy  ore." 

The  thirst  of  gold,  which  excited  both  the  enterprize  and  the  barbarity 
of  the  settlers  of  South-America,  pervaded  in  some  degree  the  colonists 
of  Virginia.  About  the  year  1607,  a  glittering  earth  was  discovered  in 
the  channel  of  a  small  stream  near  Jamestown,  and  from  that  time,  says 
Stith  in  his  history,  "  there  was  no  thought,  no  discourse,  no  hope,  and 
no  work,  but  to  dig  gold,  wash  gold,  refine  gold,  and  load  gold."  Capt. 
Smith's  representations  of  the  folly  of  such  conduct  had  no  effect,  and 
they  persisted  in  loading  a  vessel  for  England  with  this  drossy  dust. 
"  Two  vessels,"  says  Judge  Marshall,  "  returned  thither  in  the  spring 
and  summer  of  1608,  one  laden  with  this  dust,  and  the  other  with  cedar: 
the  first  remittances  ever  made  from  America  by  an  English  colony." 

Note  2. — Line  45. 

"  The  Poet  lurd 
His  muse  to  emigrate." 

Among  the  colonists  of  New  England,  who  came  under  the  protection 
of  the  son  of  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  in  1623,  was  the  Rev.  William 
Morrell,  an  Episcopal  Clergyman,  bearing  a  Commission  from  the  Ec 
clesiastical  Court  in  England  to  exercise  superintendency  over  such 
churches  as  might  be  established  in  the  new  region.  He  was  a  man  of 

18 


206 

classical  taste,  and  described  that  part  of  the  country  which  he  explored,  in 
an  elegant  Latin  poem,  a  few  specimens  of  which  are  subjoined  with  an 
attempt  at  translation.  But  he  early  made  the  discovery  that  the  climate 
was  uncongenial  to  his  favourite  art,  and  too  frigid  for  the  expansion  of 
genius,  and  he  returned  to  his  native  country,  after  an  absence  of  ene 
year. 

"  Hactenus  ignotam  populis  ego  carmine  primus, 

Te  Nova,  de  veteri  cui  contigit  Anglia  nomen, 

Aggredior  trepidus  pingui  celebrare  Minerva. 

Fer  mihi  numen  opera,  cupienti  singula  plectro 

Pandere  veridico,  quse  nuper  vidimus  ipsi : 

Ut  breviter  vereque  sonent  modulamina  nostra, 

Temperiem  cosli,  vim  terroe,  munera  ponti, 

Et  varies  gentis  mores,  velamina  cultus. 

Anglia  felici  merito  Nova  nomine  gaudens, 

Soevos  nativi  mores  pertoesi  coloni, 

Indigni  penitus  populi  tellure  feraci, 

Moesta  superfusis  attollit  fletibus  ora, 

Antiques  precibus  flectens  ardentibus  Anglos, 

Numinis  seterni  felicem  lumine  gentem 

Efficere  :    aeternis  quos  nunc  peritura  tenebris." 
— "  Sunt  etenim  populi  minimi  sermonis,  et  oris 

Austeri,  risusque  parum,  soevique  superbi ; 

Constricto  nodis  hirsute  crine  sinistro, 

Imparibus  formis  tendentes  ordine  viUos  ; 

Mollia  magnanima  peragentes  otia  gentes, 

Arte  sagittifera  pollentes,  cursibus,  armis 

Astutae  ;   recto,  robusto  corpore  et  alto, 

Pellibus  indutae  cervinis,  frigora  contra 

Aspera." 

— "  Num  sua  lunari  distinguunt  tempora  motu, 
*  Non  quot  Phoebus  habet  cursus,  sed  quot  sua  conjux 

Expletus  vicibus  convertat  Cynthia  cursus  : 

Noctibus  enumerant  sua  tempora,  nulla  diebus, 

Mosque  du's  Indis  est  inservire  duobus, 

Quorum  mollis,  amans,  bona  dans,  inimica,  repellens 


207 

Unus,  amore  bonum  venerantur  :   at  invidus  alter, 
Dizos  efflmdens  cum  turbine,  fulgura  nimbos. 
Afficiensque  malis  variis,  morbisque  nefandis, 
Et  violentis  :   hunc  gelida  formidine  adorant." 

Hail,  unknown  World  !   in  shades  so  long  enroll'd  ! 
My  trembling  voice  reveals  thee  to  the  Old, 
I,  of  rude  wit,  and  undistinguish'd  name, 
Inscribe  thy  record  on  the  scroll  of  fame, 
Myself  a  stranger,  choose  the  stranger's  theme, 
And  first  for  thee  invoke  the  poet's  dream  : 
Oh  !   may  some  heavenly  Muse  th'  attempt  inspire 
And  pour  her  spirit  o'er  my  shrinking  lyre. 

Thy  genial  breezes  bear  the  blush  of  health, 
Earth  spreads  her  gifts,  and  Ocean  yields  his  wealth, 
Yet  'mid  thy  happy  lot  incessant  sighs 
Heave  thy  pure  breast,  and  tears  distain  thine  eyes, 
Thy  abject  race  a  speechless  sorrow  wakes, 
And  still  thine  eye  its  supplication  makes, 
For  some  blest  beam  to  light  their  hopeless  tomb, 
And  snatch  their  souls  from  everlasting  gloom. 

— Men,  spare  in  language,  and  of  brow  austere, 
Averse  from  laughter,  and  in  wrath  severe, 
Supreme  in  strength  the  stubborn  bow  to  wield, 
And  bold  in  courage  'mid  the  blood-stain'd  field  ; 
Men  of  proud  spirit,  and  of  fierce  design, 
Tho'  oft  in  lingering  indolence  supine, 
Swift  in  the  race  as  speeds  the  rushing  storm, 
With  wind-  swept  tresses,  and  majestic  form, 
Clad  in  rude  skins  that  mark  the  hunter's  toil, 
Throng  the  dark  wild,  but  shun  a  cultur'd  soil. 
Not  by  the  smile  which  ardent  Phoebus  gives, 
When  to  her  annual  goal  the  Earth  arrives, 
Not  by  the  changes  of  revolving  Day, 
Their  time  they  measure,  or  existence  weigh  : 
But  by  the  lamp  which  gentle  Cynthia  burns, 


208 

As  round  our  orb  her  silver  axle  turns, 

And  by  the  march  of  slow  majestic  Night, 

Whose  tardy  vigils  mock  the  trembling  light. 

— Two  Pow'rs  unseen,  their  humbled  liearts  confess, 

One,  full  of  good,  omnipotent  to  bless, 

And  one,  in  clouds  who  veils  his  awful  form, 

His  sport  the  lightning,  and  his  voice  the  storm: 

To  that,  in  love,  their  grateful  vows  they  pour, 

And  this,  through  fear,  with  abject  rites  adore. 

Another  poet,  also,  at  a  still  earlier  period,  hazarded  a  transporta 
tion  to  our  western  clime.  This  was  Stephen  Parmenias,  a  man  of 
great  learning,  who  was  born  at  Buda,  in  Hungary,  about  the  middle 
of  the  16th  century.  For  the  completion  of  his  education,  he  visited 
the  most  celebrated  European  universities,  and  during  his  residence 
in  England,  forming  a  friendship  for  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  the  half 
brother  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  decided  to  accompany  him  in  his  expe 
dition  to  America,  under  the  patronage  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  the 
summer  of  1583,  they  arrived  at  Newfoundland,  and  took  possession 
of  it,  in  the  name  of  the  British  crown.  The  Hungarian  poet  pre 
served  the  memory  of  this  expedition,  in  an  elegant  Latin  poem,  rich 
with  classical  allusions,  but  on  his  return  to  Europe  the  same  year, 
unfortunately  perished  in  a  violent  storm,  together  with  the  admiral, 
and  nearly  a  hundred  of  the  crew.  The  poem  alluded  to,  and  like 
wise  a  more  particular  account  of  this  interesting  Hungarian,  may  be 
found  in  the  ninth  volume  of  the  "  Collections  of  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Society." 

Note  3.— Line  75. 

"  Thrice  had  he  beheld 

His  fading  race  scattered  like  autumn  leaves." 

Po  what  an  told  Captain  Smith  that  he  was  "  very  old,  and  had  seen 
the  death  of  all  his  people  thrice,  so  that  not  one  of  the  first  genera 
tion  was  living  beside  himself."  Mr.  Jefferson,  in  his  "  Notes  on 
Virginia,  relates  that  at  the  first  settlement  of  the  English,  the  terri 
tories  of  Powhatan.  were  said  to  comprise  8000  square  miles 


209 

No.  4.— Line  81. 

'•'  The  brave  accomplished  Smith." 

Capt.  John  Smith,  who  accompanied  the  Colony,  which,  in  1607, 
planted  itself  at  Jamestown,  displayed  so  many  uncommon  talents, 
suited  to  the  exigencies  of  those  difficult  times,  that  the  early  histori 
ans  have  been  eloquent  in  his  praise.  Stith,  in  his  History  of  Vir 
ginia,  written  in  the  year  1747,  records  in  his  antiquated  style,  th« 
testimony  of  the  soldiers,  and  fellow-adventurers  of  Smith.  "  They 
confess  that  in  that  age,  there  were  many  captains  who  were  no 
soldiers,  but  that  he  was  a  soldier  of  the  true  old  English  stamp, 
who  fought,  not  for  gain  or  empty  praise,  but  for  his  country's 
honour  and  the  public  good ;  that  his  wit,  courage  and  success 
were  worthy  of  eternal  memory  ;  that  by  the  mere  force  of  his 
virtue  and  courage,  he  awed  the  Indian  kings,  and  made  them  sub 
mit  and  bring  presents ;  that  notwithstanding  such  a  stern  and 
invincible  resolution,  there  was  seldom  seen  a  milder  and  more 
tender  heart  than  his  was ;  that  he  had  nothing  in  him  counterfeit 
or  sly ;  but  was  open,  honest,  and  sincere,  and  that  they  never 
knew  a  soldier  before  him,  so  free  from  the  military  vices  of  wine, 
tobacco,  debts,  dice,  and  oaths."  Judge  Marshall,  in  his  biography 
of  Washington,  in  describing  the  expedients  which  Capt.  Smith 
devised,  and  the  dangers  which  he  encountered  for  the  protection 
of  the  colony,  remarks,  that  '•  he  preserved  his  health  unimpaired, 
his  spirits  unbroken,  and  his  judgment  unclouded,  amidst  the  gen 
eral  misery  and  dejection."  After  his  liberation  from  captivity  by 
Powhatan,  he  concerted  measures  for  the  safety  of  the  colony,  and 
the  welfare  of  his  government,  he  undertook  a  bold  expedition  to 
explore  the  waters  of  the  Chesapeake,  and  to  make  researches  into 
the  countries  upon  its  shores.  "  He  entered,"  says  Marshall,  "most 
of  the  large  creeks,  and  sailed  up  many  of  the  great  rivers  to  their 
falls.  He  made  accurate  observations  on  the  extensive  territories 
through  which  he  passed,  and  on  the  various  tribes  inhabiting 
them,  with  whom  he  alternately  fought,  negotiated  and  traded. 
In  the  various  situations  in  which  he  found  himself,  he  always 
displayed  judgment,  courage,  and  that  presence  of  mind,  which  is 
so  essential  to  the  character  of  a  commander;  and  ho  never 

18* 


210 

finally  to  inspire  the  savages  whom  he  encountered,  with  the  most 
exalted  opinion  of  himself,  and  of  his  nation.  When  we  consider 
that  he  sailed  above  three  thousand  miles  in  an  open  boat ;  when 
we  contemplate  the  dangers,  the  hardships,  he  endured,  and  the 
fortitude,  patience,  and  courage  with  which  he  bore  them  ;  when 
we  reflect  on  the  useful  and  important  additions  which  he  made  to 
the  stock  of  knowledge,  respecting  America,  then  possessed  by  his 
countrymen,  we  shall  not  hesitate  to  say  that  few  voyages  of  dis 
covery,  undertaken  at  any  time,  reflect  more  honour  on  those 
engaged  in  them,  than  this  does  on  Captain  Smith." 

Note  ro.—Line  92. 
"  —  ere  Manhood's  tinge  had  bronz'd 
His  blooming  chetk." 

Captain  Smith  was  born  at  Willoughby  in  Itlsp,  and  at  the  time 
of  his  slavery  in  Constantinople,  when  most  of  the  romantic  adven 
tures  of  his  life  had  terminated,  the  hero  had  only  attained  the 
age  of  23  years. 

Note  6.— Line  171. 

"  Where  Marseilles  retreats 
To  rocky  barrier." 

Marseilles,  the  ancient  Massilia,  is  situated  at  the  foot  of  a 
rocky  mountain  near  the  sea.  Its  natural  advantages  for  commerce 
were  such,  that  its  trade  flourished  even  in  the  days  of  Gothic  bar 
barism.  The  politeness  and  literature  of  its  early  inhabitants, 
were  so  conspicuous,  that  Livy  pronounced  it  to  have  been  as 
much  polished  as  if  it  had  risen  in  the  midst  of  Greece  ;  and  Ci 
cero  denominated  it  the  "  Athens  of  the  Gauls." 

Note  l.—Line  183. 

"  Oft  they  described 

The  cell  ivith  lingering  rainbow  ever  bright." 
The  niche,  in  which  the  statue  of  the  Virgin  is  placed  in  the 
"  Casa  Santa"  of  the  church  at  Loretto,  is  adorned  among  other 
costly  declarations,  with  71  large  Bohemian  Topazes;  near  it 
stands  an  angel  of  cast  gold,  profusely  enriched  with  gems  and 
diamonds ;  and  the  lustre  of  the  precious  stones  with  which  this 
.cell  is  ornamented,  has  been  compared  by  pilgrims  to  a  rainbow, 


211 

eclipsing  the  lamps  with  which  it  is  contrasted.  The  chamber, 
containing  this  statue,  is  alleged  by  the  adherents  of  the  Romish 
church,  to  have  been  carried  through  the  air  by  angels  in  the 
month  of  May,  1291,  from  Galilee  to  Tersato,  in  Dalmatia.  From 
thence  it  was  removed  in  the  same  manner,  after  having  reposed 
somewhat  more  than  four  years,  and  set  down  in  a  wood  in 
Italy,  about  midnight  in  the  month  of  December,  where  it  remain 
ed  nearly  200  years,  before  it  was  noticed  by  any  author  of  that 
country. 

j\T0te  8. — Line  302. 

"  Almost  it  seem'd 

That  the  strange  fable  caught  from  Pagan  lore." 
The  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  which  some  have  derived  from  the 
Platonic  fancies  of  Origen,  the  Montanism  of  Tertullian,  pretended 
visions,  or  doubtful  expressions  of  the  later  fathers,  was  intioduced 
in  part  towards  the  close  of  the  fifth  century,  but  not  positively 
affirmed  till  the  year  1140,  nor  made  an  article  of  faith,  till  the 
council  of  Trent. 

Note  9.— Line  377. 
"And  '  seas  of  flame.' " 

Moscow,  in  its  conflagration,  was  emphatically  compared  to  an 
tl  Ocean  of  flame." 

Note  W—Line  441. 

"  There  Samos  spread 
Her  beauteous  harbours  o'er  the  violet  wave, 
While  in  perspective  soft  her  green  fields  gleam'' d 
In  semi-annual  harvest." 

Between  Samos  and  Icaria,  the  intensely  deep  blue  colour  of 
the  water  has  been  noticed  by  voyagers ;  and  in  the  '  Childe 
Harolde'  of  Lord  Byron,  it  is  denominated  the  "  dark  blue  sea." 
Athenaeus  relates,  that  in  Samos,  the  fig-trees,  apple-trees,  rose- 
trees,  and  vines,  bore  fruit  twice  in  a  year. 

Note  11.— Line  446. 

"  Rosy  Rhodes." 

The  etymology  of  Rhodes,  has  been  sought  in  the  Greek  word 
•'Rhodoiv'  signifying  a  rose,  with  which  flower  that  island 


212 

abounded.  The  classical  traveller,  Clarke,  observes,  "from  the 
number  of  appellations  it  has  borne  at  different  periods,  it  might 
at  last  have  received  the  name  of  the  Polynoman  Island.  It  has 
been  called  Ophiusa,  from  the  number  of  its  serpents ;  Telchynis ; 
Corymbria  ;  Trinacria ;  JEthraea,  from  its  cloudless  sky  ;  Asteria, 
because  at  a  distance  its  figure  appears  like  that  of  a  star ;  Poessa ; 
Atabyria;  Oloessa;  Macaria,  and  Pelagia.  Some  are  of  opinion 
that  Rhodes  was  first  peopled  by  the  descendants  of  Dodanim,  the 
fourth  son  of  Javan.  Both  the  Septuagint  and  Samaritan  trans 
lation  of  the  Pentateuch,  instead  of  Dodanim  use  Rodonim  ;  and 
by  this  appellation  the  Greeks  always  distinguished  the  Rhodi- 
ans.M 

Note  12.— Line  449. 

"  Those  golden  showers  which  testified  the  love 
Of  ardent  Ph&bus." 

The  exuberant  fertility  of  the  soil  of  this  island  gave  occasion 
to  those  fables  embellished  by  the  poets,  of  golden  showers  which 
they  pretended  to  have  fallen  upon  it.  They  feigned  also  a  story  of 
the  love  of  Phcebus  for  Rhodes,  and  asserted  it  to  have  been  an  un 
inhabitable  marsh,  until  it  was  loved  by  him,  and  drawn  from  the 
waters  by  his  powerful  influence.  But  now,  under  Turkish  oppression, 
the  island  no  longer  merits  the  appellation  of  "  fortunate  ;"  and 
the  golden  showers  of  fiction,  are  changed  to  the  iron  influence  of 
tyranny  and  desolation. 

Note  13.— Line  563. 

"  Veqiasians  Coliseum,  where  the  Goth, — 
Stood  in  amazement." 

The  Coliseum,  sometimes  called  the  Flavian  amphitheatre,  was 
commenced  by  Flavins  Vespasian,  in  the  year  72,  but  finished  by 
Titus,  who  employed  upon  it  such  of  the  Jews,  as  were  brought  in 
slavery  to  Rome.  This  vast  structure  was  viewed  with  wonder  by 
the  Gothic  conquerors ;  and  the  venerable  Bede  records  a  prover 
bial  expression  of  the  pilgrims  of  the  north,  by  which  in  the  8th 
century  they  testified  their  admiration  :  "  As  long  as  the  Coliseum 
stands,  will  Rome  stand,  when  the  Coliseum  falls,  Rome  must  fall, 
and  with  Rome,  the  world  shall  fall." 


213 

Note  14. — Line  578. 

"  —  through 
Of  Devastation's  wantoru  jss." 

Notwithstanding  the  Coliseum  had  in  various  instances  been  the  sub 
ject  of  dilapidation,  had  furnished  stone  for  the  construction  of  the  Far- 
nese  Palace,  by  Michael  Angelo,  and  had  even  been  thrown  open  as  a 
common  quarry,  in  the  14th  century,  for  the  use  of  the  multitude,  yet  in 
the  middle  of  the  16th  century,  its  exterior  circumference  of  1612  feet 
still  remained  inviolate,  and  a  triple  elevation  of  fourscore  arches  was  pre 
served,  rising  to  the  height  of  108  feet. 

N0te  ]5 — Lin,e  579. 

"  Where  the  pavilion  with  its  purjrte  pomp." 

Persons  of  the  highest  dignity  had  places  assigned  to  them  in  a  part  of 
the  amphitheatre  called  the  Podium,  near  the  centre  of  which  was  the 
Imperial  i  avilion,  lined  with  silk,  and  embellished  in  the  most  splendid 
manner. 

Note  16. — Line  582. 

"  The  Cunei,  dividing  with  strict  care 

Patrician  from  Plebeian . ' ' 

The  Cunei  distinguished  the  seats  appointed  for  the  different  classes  of 
the  people,  so  that  every  one  might  be  conducted  to  the  place  allotted,  by 
the  laws  of  the  amphitheatre,  to  his  respective  rank.  The  strictest  atten 
tion  was  exercised,  lest  any  might  obtain  a  dignity  of  station  to  which  he 
was  not  entitled  ;  and  the  Cunei  were  under  the  direction  of  officers  called 
Locarii,  while  the  general  care  of  the  Coliseum  was  entrusted  to  the 
grand  Villicus  amphitheatri. 

Note  17.— Line  590. 

"  Those  Vomitories,  whence  the  noisy  crowd 

Issud  abrupt." 

The.  entrances  to  the  passages  and  stair-cases  were  styled  Vomitories ; 
and  the  crowd  passing  through  them  to  witness  favourite  exhibitions  was 
immense.  Justus  Lipsius  asserts,  that  the  Coliseum  was  capable  of  ac 
commodating  87,000  spectators  on  benches  j  and  Fontana  added  22,OOO 
for  the  galleries,  stair-cases,  and  passages.  On  the  ground  plan,  the  ex* 


214 

terior  surface  of  the  ellipsis  covered  a  superficies  of  246,66 1  feet,  (more 
than  five  and  a  half  ?cres,)  and  consisted  of  eighty  arches,  opening  into  a 
spacious  double  corridor,  from  whence  radiated  eighty  passages  and  stair- 
tases,  leading  either  to  two  inner  corridors,  to  the  arena,  or  to  the  galle 
ries. 

Note  IS.— Line  594. 

"  The  Dreading  Velum's  gorgeoiis  canopy." 

At  the  summit  of  the  Flavian  amphitheatre  was  a  sixth  story,  or  rather 
floor,  appropriated  to  those  who  managed  the  Velum,  which  was  an  awn 
ing  of  various  colours,  occasionally  stretched  to  protect  the  audience  from 
rain,  or  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  which,  by  means  of  cords  and  pullies, 
could  be  extended  or  withdrawn  at  pleasure. 

Note  19.— Line  601. 

"  Fought  the  stern  Gladiators." 

The  combats  of  Gladiators,  were  early  exhibited  at  Rome,  and  the 
people  became  so  strongly  attached  to  these  entertainments,  that  the  em 
perors  found  it  politic  to  indulge  their  barbarous  taste.  Julius  Caesar, 
during  his  aedileship,  gratified  the  populace  with  combats  between  320  pair 
of  gladiators ;  and  Gordian,  before  the  imperial  purple  was  conferred  upon 
him,  gave  those  shows  twelve  times  in  a  year,  in  some  of  which  500 
couple  were  engaged.  Titus  exhibited  a  show  of  gladiators,  wild  beasts, 
and  representations  of  sea-fights  upon  the  Coliseum,  which  lasted  100 
days,  and  Trajan  continued  an  exhibition  of  the  same  nature  during  one 
third  of  a  year,  in  the  course  of  which  he  brought  out  10,000  gladiators. 
The  master,  by  whom  these  miserable  combatants  were  instructed  in  the 
science  of  defence,  forced  them  to  swear  that  they  would  fight  till  death, 
and  if  they  displayed  cowardice,  they  were  made  to  expire  by  fire,  sword, 
or  whips,  unless  the  voice  of  the  emperor,  or  the  people,  gave  them  life. 

Note  20.— Line  613. 

"  Which  Jirst  upon  its  sacred  banner  bore 

The  name  of  Christ." 

"The  disciples  were  Jirst  called  Christians  at  Antioch." — Acts  sh 
26.  Ignatius  was  the  second  bishop  of  this  church,  and,  according  to 
Eusebius,  succeeded  Euodius,  near  the  close  of  the  first  century  after  the 
death  of  Christ.  He  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  amphitheatre  at  Rome, 


215 

during  the  persecution  of  Trajan ;  and  was  venerated,  even  awiong  his  foes, 
for  his  years  and  piety. 

Note  21.— Line  615. 

"  Full  on  thy  right  ear  pour' d 
The  melody  of  Heaven." 

Ignatius  was  the  first  who  introduced  antiphonal  singing  among  the 
churches  of  the  East,  which,  according  to  Socrates,  the  ecclesiastical  his 
torian,  he  first  learnt  from  a  vision,  in  which  the  glorified  spirits  of  heaven 
appeared,  singing  in  alternate  measures,  hymns  of  praise  to  the  Everlast 
ing  Trinity. 

Note  22.— Line  661. 

"  Thy  curb  controul'd 
The  tossing  Danube." 

Trajan,  in  the  year  104,  constructed  a  bridge  over  the  Danube,  which 
was  long  admired  as  a  relic  of  antiquity.  After  his  conquest  of  Assyria, 
he  descended  the  Tigris  with  his  fleet,  and  had  the  honour  of  being  both 
the  first  and  the  last  Roman  general  who  navigated  the  Indian  Oceajj. 

Note  23. — Line  670. 

"  The  arch  of  Titus,  rich  unth  victories 
O'er  humbled  Judah." 

The  arch  of  Titus  ie  of  the  composite  order,  and  represents  upon  its 
frieze  his  conquest  of  Judea,  a  delineation  of  the  river  Jordan,  with  the 
captives  who  attended  his  triumph,  and  the  spoil  and  sacred  utensils  frora 
the  desolated  temple. 

Note  24.— Line  709. 

<(  —  who  early  wise 
Learnt  with  a  philosophic  sway  to  quell 
The  passions'  mutiny." 

Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  who  erected  the  celebrated  Antonine 
column,  to  the  memory  of  Antoninus  Pius,  made  such  great  and  early 
proficiency  in  his  studies,  that  at  the  age  of  twelve  years  he  assumed  the 
philosophical  gown.  With  the  gravity  of  a  philosopher  he  blended  no 
severity,  but  continued  virtuous  without  pride,  and  grave  without  melan 
choly.  Such  was  the  enthusiasm  of  his  gratitude  to  those  who  had  aided 


216 

him  in  the  pursuits  of  knowledge,  that  he  kept  their  images  of  gold  in  his 
domestic  chapel,  and  offered  garlands  of  flowers  at  their  tombs. 

Note  25.—  Line  728. 

"  --the  blest  Christian  Emperor  Constantine." 

The  splendid  reign  of  Constantine,  when  the  Church  past  from  a  state 
of  suffering  to  one  of  comparative  power,  when  she  was  appointed  to 
"  arise  from  the  dust,  and  put  on  her  beautiful  garments,"  is  well  known 
to  every  reader  of  ecclesiastical  history.  Among  the  triumphs  of  Chris 
tianity  which  shed  lustre  on  the  annals  of  this  prosperous  prince,  may  be 
numbered  the  prohibition  of  the  barbarous  spectacles  of  gladiators,  which 
was  decreed  by  him  in  the  East,  on  the  first  of  October  325,  and  by 
Theodoric  in  the  West,  about  the  year  500. 

Note  26.— Line  763. 

"       like  the  brand 
Of  mighty  Scanderberg." 

The  interesting  scene  of  modern  Greece  contending  with  her  oppressors, 
for  her  ancient  birthright,  and  her  long-trampled  liberty,  leads  the  mind 
back  to  the  noble  exploits  of  Scanderberg  the  Great,  Prince  of  Albania. 
He  was  sent,  when  young,  as  a  hostage  to  Amurath  II.  by  his  father, 
who  held  his  territory  in  subjection  to  the  Turkish  government.  Here 
he  received  the  best  education  consistent  with  the  Mahometan  system, 
and  so  early  distinguished  himself  for  courage  and  military  ability,  that 
he  received  the  command  of  a  body  of  troops,  at  the  age  of  eighteen. 
The  death  of  his  father  in  1432,  filled  him  with  an  unconquerable  desire 
to  redeem  his  native  principality  from  Turkish  thraldom.  Attending  the 
Mahometan  army  into  Hungary,  he  entered  into  an  alliance  with  the  ce 
lebrated  Huniades,  king  of  that  country,  and  soon  after  began  to  contend 
for  the  liberties  of  Albania.  After  many  years  of  warfare  with  Mahomet 
II.  the  successor  of  Amurath,  he  established  his  dominion,  and  compelled 
his  foes  to  propose  conditions  of  peace.  His  invincible  courage  was  ac 
knowledged  throughout  Europe ;  and  in  him  the  spirit  of  the  ancient 
heroes  and  conquerors  of  Greece  seems  to  have  revived.  He  died  at  the 
age  of  63,  and  from  that  period  Albania  has  been  the  subject  of  Turkish 
oppression.  Even  foes  were  constrained  to  pay  homage  to  the  valour  and 
greatness  of  Scanderberg,  and  when  they  besieged  Lissa,  the  place  of  his 


217 

sepulchre,  they  disinterred  his  bones,  and  had  them  set  in  silver,   viewing 
them  as  precious  relics  and  powerful  amulets. 

Note  27.— Line  804. 

"  Alba-Regalis  and   Olumpagh  fell 

Shaming  the  Moslem." 

"  During  the  sieges  of  Olumpagh,  and  Alba-Regalis,  young  Smith  was 
the  projector  of  stratagems,  and  the  conductor  of  certain  modes  of  attack, 
which  manifested  an  unusual  talent  for  the  art  of  war,  and  rendered  the 
most  essential  services  to  the  Christian  cause.  The  command  of  a  horse, 
and  the  rank  of  first  major,  were  conferred  on  him,  as  an  acknowledge 
ment  of  his  high  desert." — Biography  of  Capt.  Smith. 

Note  28.— Line  886. 

"  —  while  honours  and  reivards 
Whelm  him  in  rich  profusion." 

Smith,  at  his  return  from  this  eventful  tournament,  was  attended  by 
6000  men  at  arms  to  the  pavilion  of  the  general,  where  he  received  the 
most  flattering  reception,  and  was  presented  with  a  noble  war-horse,  richly 
caparisoned,  and  a  scimitar  and  belt  of  great  value.  The  Duke  of  Tran 
sylvania  gave  him  his  c  miniature  set  in  gold,  accompanied  with  the 
kindest  expressions  of  regard,  and  issued  letters  patent  of  nobility,  giving 
him  for  his  arms  three  Turks'  heads  emblazoned  on  a  shield.  These 
were  afterwards  recorded  in  the  herald's  office  in  England,  and  became 
the  permanent  arms  of  Smith  and  his  descendants. 

Note  29.— Line  893. 

"  From  heaps  of  slain, 

In  dark  disastrous  hour  the  youth  is  drawn 
Half  lifeless  " 

This  was  at  the  unfortunate  engagement  ofRottenton,  in  1602,  when 
the  carnage  of  the  Christian  army  was  very  extensive.  Smith  was  left 
on  the  field  among  the  dead,  but  the-  pillagers  perceiving  that  he  still 
breathed,  and  supposing  from  the  elegance  of  his  armour,  that  his  ransom 
would  be  ample,  took  great  pains  to  restore  his  life.  After  this  was 
effected,  and  no  one  sought  his  redemption,  he  was  sold  at  auction  with 
other  prisoners,  and  purchased  by  a  bashaw,  as  a  present  to  his  mistress, 
a  lady  of  distinguished  beauty. 

19 


218 

Note  SO.— Line  928. 

"  Driven  from  the  beauteous  shades." 

The  partiality  of  Charitza  exciting  the  jealousy  of  her  mother,  Smith 
was  sent  into  Tartary,  to  her  brother,  the  timor-bashaw  of  Nalbrits,  on 
the  Palus  Moaotis. 

Note  31.— Line  938. 

"  When  the  tyrant's  wrath 
Heaped  insolence  imth  outrage,  his  bold  hand 
Avengd  it  in  his  blood." 

Smith,  exasperated  by  the  personal  brutalities  of  his  master,  struck 
him  dead  with  a  threshing  bat,  in  his  barn,  about  a  league  from  his  man 
sion.  Burying  the  body  beneath  the  straw,  he  arrayed  himself  in  the 
clothes  of  the  dead  bashaw,  mounted  his  horse,  and  with  only  a  knapsack 
of  corn  for  his  subsistence,  fled  for  three  days  with  the  utmost  precipitation 
through  the  deserts  of  Circassia.  Accidentally  finding  the  main  road  to 
Muscovy,  he  travelled  tipon  it  16  days,  under  the  greatest  pressure  of 
hunger  and  fatigue,  until  he  reached  a  garrison  on  the  Russian  frontier, 
where  he  found  a  safe  refuge  and  a  cordial  welcome. 

Note  32.— Line  949. 

"  —  he  surveyed 
Europe's  exhaustless  stores." 

After  taking  a  range  through  various  countries  of  Asia  and  Europe, 
he  met  at  Leipsic  his  faithful  patron,  the  Duke  of  Transylvania,  who 
presented  him  with  1500  ducats  to  repair  his  decaying  finances,  and  fur 
nished  him  with  letters  of  recommendation,  setting  forth  his  military  ser 
vices.  He  then  took  an  extensive  circuit  through  Germany,  France  and 
Spain.  He  passed  also  into  Africa,  and  was  allured,  says  his  biographer, 
"  by  the  rumours  of  war,  and  the  native  affinity  of  his  mind  for  dangers, 
to  spend  some  time  at  the  court  of  Morocco."  This  must  have  been  at 
the  period  of  those  competitions  for  the  sovereignty  which  succeeded  the 
death  of  Muley  Achmet  in  1603,  and  which  were  finally  decided  by  the 
succession  of  his  youngest  son,  Muley  Sidon,  who  reigned  until  the  year 
1630. 


219 

Note  33.—  Line  961. 

t:  Fring'd  ivith  the  rose-bay  on  its  graaful  stem." 
The  Nereum  Oleander,  a  beautiful  tree,  delighting  in  moist  situations, 
adorns  the  margin  of  the  Mulluvia,  a  considerable   river,    which   rises   in 
Mount  Atlas,  and  pursues  its  course  to  the  Mediterranean,  partly  dividing 
Algiers  from  Morocco. 

Note  34. — Line  971. 

"  —  ' ' neath  the  simple  shade 
Of  /its  umbrella,  holds  his  Meshooar." 

In  the  empire  of  Morocco,  there  is  no  code  of  laws,  but  the  will  of  a 
despotic  monarch  disposes  of  wealth,  liberty,  opinion,  or  existence,  with 
out  appeal.  Wherever  he  happens  to  be,  he  grants  public  audience  four 
times  a  week,  for  the  distribution  of  justice,  sitting  on  horseback,  while  a 
groom  holds  an  umbrella  over  his  head.  This  the  Moors  call  holding 
the  "  Meshooar  ;"  though  there  is  also  a  place  in  the  city  of  Morocco 
distinctively  styled  "  the  Meshooar,"  because  devoted  to  these  audiences. 
It  is  surrounded  by  walls,  and  situated  between  the  old  palace  and  the 
magnificent  pavilions  erected  by  Sidi  Mahomet. 

Note  35.~Line  988. 

"  Yet  still  the  deep  foundations  of  the  main 

Echo'd  those  battle  thunders." 

Smith  returned  to  his  native  country  by  the  way  of  France,  and  in  his 
passage  across  the  channel  in  a  French  galley,  was  in  a  desperate  conflict 
with  two  Spanish  ships  of  war,  which  continued  nearly  three  days,  and 
terminated  in  the  discomfiture  of  the  Spaniards. 

Note  36.— Line  994. 

'*  A  hardy  pioneer  to  this  New  World, 
Heiuing  out  danger's  path." 

Capt.  Smith  was  one  of  the  original  company  to  which  James  I.  under 
the  date  of  April  10th,  1606,  granted  letters  patent  for  the  colonization 
of  America.  He  was  appointed  to  a  seat  in  the  first  council  of  what  was 
then  denominated  the  "  South  Colony,"  and  though  he  met  with  the  op 
position  which  envy  testifies  to  superior  merit,  he  was  afterwards  elected 
president  of  that  body.  He  embarked  with  his  associates  from  England, 


220 

with  Capt.  Grosnold,  on  the  19th  of  December  1606,  but  did  not  arrive 
on  the  coast  of  Virginia,  until  past  the  middle  of  the  succeeding  spring. 

Xote  ol.—Line  1006. 

"  There  enthrond 
Sat  great  Powhatun." 

The  Indian  monarch  at  this  audience  was  seated  on  a  throne  somewhat 
resembling  a  bedstead,  clothed  in  a  flowing  robe  composed  of  the  skins  of 
the  Racoon,  with  a  fanciful  coronet  of  feathers  upon  his  head.  His  resi 
dence  was  at  Worowocomoco,  and  his  sway  not  only  extensive  but  imperial, 
in  the  true  signification  of  the  term  ;  for  he  exercised  dominion  over  thirty 
tributary  kings. 

Note  SS.—Line  1024. 

"  JVo  such  kind  repast 
In  gentle  friendship,  heralded  thy  death, 
Poor  Ugolino." 

The  death  of  Count  Ugolino  and  his  sons,  by  hunger,  in  the  prison  of 
Pisa,  during  the  contest  of  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibellines,  at  the  close  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  furnished  a  subject  for  one  of  the  most  striking  his 
torical  pictures  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  is  described  by  Dante  in  his 
"  Inferno,"  with  great  poetical  energy. 

"  Dreams  wak'd  me  ere  the  dawn,  when  in  their  sleep 

I  heard  my  children  groan,  and  call  for  bread, 

Oh  cruel !   should  no  pity  touch  thy  soul 

To  think  how  much  a  father's  heart  presag'd  ? 

If  now  thou  shedd'st  no  tears,  what  have  thy  eyes 

Been  us'd  to  weep  at  ?     Now  my  boys  awoke  ; 

The  hour  arriv'd,  when  each  expected  food, 

As  wonted,  would  be  brought  him ;  but  his  heart 

Mistrusted,  when  each  thought  upon  his  dream, 

And  I — oh  horrible  !   that  instant  heard 

The  dungeon's  iron  doors  more  firmly  lock'd  : 

In  desperate  silence  on  my  sons  I  gaz'd, 

I  could  not  weep — my  breast  was  turn'd  to 

The  little  victims  wept,  jind  one  began, 


221 

(My  dear  Anselmo,)  «  Father  !   why  that  look  ! 
What  ails  my  Father  ?' 

Ah  !  I  could  not  weep, 
Nor  answer  all  that  clay,  nor  yet  that  night, 
Till  on  the  world  another  morn  arose. 
As  faintly  through  our  doleful  prison  gleam'd 
The  tremulous  ray,  so  I  could  view  again 
Each  face,  on  which  my  features  were  imprest, 
Both  hands  I  gnaw'd  in  agony  and  rage. 
Sweet  innocents  !     They  thought  me  hanger-stung, 
And  rising  on  a  sudden,  all  exclaim'd, 
*  Father !   our  anguish  would  be  less  severe 
If  thou  would'st  feed  on  us.     This  fleshly  vest 
Thou  didst  bestow  ;  now  take  it  back  again.' 
I  check'd  my  inward  nature,  lest  my  groans 
Should  aggravate  their  anguish.      All  were  mute 
That  bitter  day,  and  all  the  morrow. 

Earth  ! 

Why  didst  thou  not  obdurate  earth  !  dispart  ? 
The  fourth  sad  morning  came,  when  at  my  feet 
My  Gaddo  fell  extended.     «  Help,'  he  cried, 
'  Canst  thou  not  help  me,  father  ?'  and  expir'd. 
Thus  wither'd  as  thou  see'st  me,  one  by  one 
I  saw  my  children  ere  the  sixth  morn,  die. 
Then  seiz'd  with  sudden  blindness,  on  my  knees 
I  grop'd  among  them,  calling  each  by  name 
For  three  days  after  they  were  dead.     At  length 
Famine  and  death  clos'd  up  the  scene  of  woe." 

J\otc  39. — Line  1065. 

"  —  one  young  timid  maid 
Sat  near  the  tfirone." 

The  Princess  Pocahontas,  in  many  instances,  besides  the  rescue  of 
Capt.  Smith,  signified  a  firm  friendship  for  the  English  colony.  From 
famine  and  secret  conspiracy,  she  was  more  than  once  the  instrument  of 
deliverance.  "Oft  times,"  says  Capt.  Smith,  in  his  history  of  Virginia, 


222 

"  in  the  utmost  of  my  extremities,  hath  that  blessed  Pocahontas,  the  daugKr 
ter  of  the  great  king  of  Virginia,  saved  my  life."  With  the  heroic  mag 
nanimity  of  a  noble  soul,  she  united  the  softness  and  tenderness  of  the 
feminine  character.  Yet  notwithstanding  all  her  acts  of  disinterested 
kindness  to  the  English,  she  was  treacherously  decoyed  by  them  on  board 
one  of  their  vessels,  and  carried  to  Jamestown.  Still  their  sense  of  hon 
our  moved  them  to  treat  her  with  all  that  respect  which  her  correct  de 
portment  and  high  rank  deserved. 

"  The  motive  to  this  step,"  says  Judge  Marshall,  in  his  Life  of  Wash 
ington,  "  was  a  hope,  that  the  possession  of  Pocahontas  would  give  the 
English  an  ascendancy  over  Powhatan,  her  father,  who  was  known  to 
dote  on  her.  In  this,  however,  they  were  disappointed.  Powhatan 
offered  first,  corn,  then  friendship,  if  they  would  immediately  restore  his 
daughter,  but  refused  to  come  to  any  terms  until  that  reparation  was 
made  for  what  he  resented  as  an  act  of  treachery.  During  the  detention 
of  the  Princess  at  Jamestown,  she  made  an  impression  on  the  heart  of 
Mr.  Rolfe,  a  young  gentleman  of  estimation  in  the  colony,  who  also  suc 
ceeded  in  gaining  her  affections.  They  were  married  with  the  consent  of 
Powhatan,  who  by  this  event  was  entirely  reconciled  to  the  English,  and 
ever  after  continued  their  sincere  friend."  After  the  arrival  of  Pocahon 
tas  in  England,  with  her  husband,  a  petition  was  addressed  in  her  behalf 
to  Queen  Anne,  by  Capt.  Smith,  bearing  the  date  of  June  1616,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  mentions,  "  Being  taken  prisoner  by  the  power  of 
Powhatan,  I  received  from  this  great  savage  exceeding  great  courtesy, 
especially  from  Ids  son  Nantaquas,  the  manliest,  comeliest,  boldest  spirit 
that  I  ever  saw  in  an  Indian,  and  this  sister  Pocahontas,  the  king's  most 
dear  and  well-beloved  daughter,  whose  compassionate,  pitiful  heart  of  my 
desperate  estate,  gave  me  much  cause  to  respect  her.  I  being  the  first 
Christian  that  this  proud  king  and  his  grim  attendants  ever  saw,  and  thus 
enthralled  in  their  barbarous  power,  I  cannot  say  that  I  ever  felt  the  least 
occasion  of  want,  which  was  in  the  power  of  these  my  mortal  foes  to  pre 
vent.  After  some  six  weeks  falling  under  these  savage  courtiers,  at  the 
moment  of  mv  own  execution,  she  hazarded  the  beating  out  of  her  own 
brains  to  save  mine,  and  then  Nantaquas  so  prevailed  with  hisfather,  that 
I  was  safely  conducted  to  Jamestown,  where  I  found  about  38  miserable, 
poor  and  sick  creatures,  to  keep  possession  for  all  those  large  territories  of 


223 


Virginia.  Such  was  the  weakness  of  this  poor  commonwealth,  that  had 
not  the  Indians  fed  us,  we  directly  had  starved.  And  this  relief,  most 
gracious  Queen,  was  commonly  brought  us  by  the  Lady  Pocahontas,  who, 
notwithstanding  all  the  changes  when  inconstant  fortune  turned  our  peace 
into  war,  would  not  spare  to  dare  to  visit  us  ;  and  by  her  our  jars  have 
been  often  appeased,  and  our  wants  still  supplied.  When  her  father,  with  the 
utmost  of  his  policy  and  power,  sought  to  surprize  me,  having  but  eighteen 
with  me,  the  dark  night  could  not  affright  her  from  adventuring  through 
the  darksome  woods,  and  with  tearful  eyes  giving  me  the  intelligence, 
with  her  best  advice  how  to  escape  his  fury,  which  had  the  king  known  he 
had  surely  slain  her.  She,  under  God,  was  the  instrument  to  preserve 
this  colony  from  death,  famine,  a»d  utter  confusion  :  for  if  in  those  times 
it  had  been  once  dissolved,  Virginia  might  have  lain  unto  this  day,  as  it 
was  at  our  arrival." 

The  age  of  Pocahontas,  at  the  time  of  her  saving  the  life  of  Capt;. 
Smith,  is  usually  fixed  at  thirteen  years,  though  Mr.  Davis,  in  a  note  to 
his  song  of  the  "  Angel  of  the  Wild,"  represents  her  as  a  child  of  only 
eleven  years.  As  this  poetical  effusion  happily  displays  the  tender  sensi 
bility  of  that  noble  heroine,  it  is  extracted  as  a  close  to  this  note. 
THE  ANGEL  OF  THE  WILD. 

"  Sunt  lachryma;." — Virg. 
Now  blazes  bright  the  wigwam -hall, 

The  plumed  Chiefs  are  circled  wide, 
Above  the  crowd  with  lordly  call 

Sits  Powhatan,  in  frowning  pride. 
The  captive  Smith,  in  bonds  is  brought, 

His  head  reclines  upon  a  stone, 
The  fatal  club  of  Death  is  sought, 

While  tawny  maids  his  fate  bemoan. 
When  lo  !  with  scream  of  anguish  loud, 

A  tender  child,  in  gorgeous  vest, 
Runs  to  the  stranger  through  the  crowd, 

And  kneeling,  clasps  him  to  her  breast. 
See,  see,  her  arms  around  him  twin'd, 
And  hear  her  pour  the  piteous  wail ; 
As  if  for  hopeless  love  she  pin'd, 


224 

Her  tresses  loose,  her  dear  cheek  pale. 
"  Stay,  stay  the  club  !"  exclaims  the  king, 

And  hush  the  white  man's  dire  alarms." 
Then  rushing  through  the  shouting  ring 

He  strains  his  daughter  in  his  arms. 
Fair  Spirit !  nurs'd  in  forest  wild, 

Whence  caught  thy  breast  those  sacred  flames 
That  mark  thee  Mercy's  meekest  child 

Beyond  proud  Europe's  titled  dames. 
Scalps  and  war-weapons  met  thy  gaze, 

And  trophies  wove  in  blood-stain'd  wreath  5 
Thy  birth-star  was  the  funeral  blaze, 

Thy  lullaby  the  song  of  death. 
But  Pity  sought  thee  in  the  wild, 

Invisible,  thy  cradle  rock'd, 
Seraphic  Love  his  offerings  pil'd 

And  heavenly  graces  round  thee  flock'd. 

Note  40.— Line  1137. 

""  While  with  the  diamond  seal  of  truth  he  stamps 
His  oathless  treaty." 

Ciarkson,  in  his  life  of  William  Penn,  describes  the  manner  in  which 
his  great  treaty  with  the  Indians  was  confirmed,  in  the  year  1682.  "  The 
religious  principles  of  Penn,"  says  his  biographer,  "  which  led  him  to  the 
practice  of  the  most  scrupulous  morality,  did  not  permit  him  to  look  upon 
the  king's  patent,  or  legal  possession  according  to  the  laws  of  England, 
as  sufficient  to  establish  his  right  to  the  country,  without  purchasing  it  by 
fair  and  open  bargain  of  the  natives,  to  whom  it  properly  belonged.  He 
had  instructed  commissioners  who  arrived  in  America  before  him,  to  buy 
it  of  the  latter,  and  to  make  with  them  a  treaty  of  eternal  friendship. 
This,  those  commissioners  had  done,  and  now,  by  mutual  agreement  be 
tween  him  and  the  Indian  chiefs,  it  was  to  be  solemnly  ratified.  He  pro 
ceeded,  therefore,  accompanied  by  his  friends,  consisting  of  men,  women, 
and  young  persons  of  both  sexes,  to  Coaquannoc,  the  Indian  name  for 
the  place  where  Philadelphia  now  stands.  On  his  arrival,  he  found  the 
sachems  and  their  tribes  assembling.  They  were  seen  through  the  woods, 


as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  looked  frightfully  both  on  account  of 
their  number  and  their  arms.  The  Quakers  are  reported  to  have  been 
but  a  handful  in  comparison,  and  without  any  weapon  ;  so  that  dismay  and 
terror  must  have  seized  them,  had  they  not  confided  in  the  righteousness 
of  their  cause.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  when  we  have  accounts  of 
minor  treaties,  between  William  Penn  and  the  Indians,  that  no  historian 
has  any  particular  detail  of  this,  though  so  many  mention  it,  and  all  con 
cur  in  considering  it  the  most  glorious  of  any  in  the  annals  of  the  world. 
There  are,  however,  relations  in  Indian  speeches,  and  traditions  in  Quaker 
families,  descended  from  those  who  were  present  on  the  occasion,  from 
which  we  may  learn  something  concerning  it.  It  appears  that  though  the 
parties  .were  to  assemble  at  Coaquannoc,  the  treaty  was  made  a  little 
higher  up,  at  Shackamaxon.  Upon  this  site,  Kensington  now  stands, 
the  houses  of  which  may  be  considered  as  the  suburbs  of  Philadelphia. 
There  was  at  Shackamaxon,  an  elm  tree  of  a  prodigious  size.  To  this, 
the  leaders  on  both  sides  repaired,  approaching  each  other  under  its  widely- 
spreading  branches.  William  Penn  appeared  in  his  usual  dress.  He 
had  neither  crown,  sceptre,  mace,  sword,  halberd,  or  any  insignia  of  emi 
nence.  He  was  distinguished  only  by  wearing  a  sky-blue  sash  round  his 
waist,  made  of  silk  net-work,  and  of  no  larger  dimensions  than  an  officer's 
military  sash,  which,  except  in  colour,  it  resembled.  On  his  right  hand 
was  Col.  Markham,  his  secretary  and  relative  ;  on  his  left,  his  friend 
Pierson,  followed  by  the  train  of  Quakers.  Before  him  were  carried  va 
rious  articles  of  merchandize,  which,  when  they  came  near  the  Sachems, 
were  spread  upon  the  ground.  He  held  a  roll  of  parchment,  containing 
the  confirmation  of  the  treaty  of  purchase  and  amity,  in  his  hand.  One 
of  the  Sachems,  who  was  the  chief  of  them,  then  put  upon  his  own  head 
a  kind  of  chaplet,  in  which  appeared  a  small  horn.  This,  according  to 
scripture  language,  and  among  the  primitive  eastern  nations,  was  an  em 
blem  of  kingly  power  ;  and  whenever  the  Chief  who  had  a  right  to  wear 
it,  put  it  on,  it  was  understood  that  the  place  was  made  sacred,  and  the 
persons  of  all  present  inviolable.  Upon  putting  on  this  horn,  all  the  In 
dians  threw  down  their  bows  and  arrows,  seating  themselves  round  their 
Chiefs,  in  the  form  of  a  half  moon  upon  the  ground.  The  principa' 
Sachem  then  announced  to  William  Penn,  by  the  aid  of  an  interpreter, 
that  the  nations  were  ready  to  hear  him.  He  then  said,  that  the  Great 


226 

Spirit,  who  made  him  and  them,  who  ruled  the  heavens  and  the  eartlu 
and  was  acquainted  with  the  innermost  thoughts  of  man,  knew  that  he 
and  his  friends  had  a  hearty  desire  to  live  in  peace  and  friendship  with 
them,  and  serve  them  to  the  utmost  of  their  power.  It  was  not  their 
custom  to  use  hostile  weapons  against  their  fellow-creatures,  therefore, 
came  they  to  this  treaty  unarmed.  Their  object  was  not  to  do  injury, 
and  thus  provoke  the  Great  Spirit,  but  to  do  good.  They  had  met  them 
on  the  broad  path-way  of  good  faith  and  good  will,  so  that  no  advantage 
was  to  be  taken  on  either  side,  but  all  was  to  be  openness,  brotherhood 
and  love.  After  these  and  other  words,  he  unrolled  the  parchment,  and 
by  means  of  the  same  interpreter,  conveyed  to  them,  article  by  article, 
the  conditions  of  the  purchase,  and  the  words  of  the  contract  then  made 
for  their  eternal  union.  Among  other  things,  they  were  not  to  be  mo 
lested  in  their  lawful  pursuits,  even  in  the  territory  they  had  alienated,  for 
it  was  to  be  common  to  them,  as  well  as  to  the  English.  They  were  to 
have  the  same  liberty  to  do  all  things  therein,  relating  to  the  improve 
ment  of  their  grounds,  and  providing  sustenance  for  their  families,  which 
the  English  had.  If  any  dispute  should  arise  between  the  two,  it  should 
be  settled  by  twelve  persons,  half  of  whom  should  be  English,  and  half 
-Indians.  He  then  paid  them  for  the  land,  and  made  them  many  presents 
beside,  from  the  merchandize  which  was  spread  before  them.  Having 
done  this,  he  laid  the  roll  of  parchment  on  the  ground,  observing  again, 
that  the  ground  should  be  common  to  both  people.  He  then  added,  that 
he  would  not  do  like  the  inhabitants  of  Maryland,  that  is,  call  them  only 
children  or  brothers  ;  for  parents  were  sometimes  unkind  to  their  children, 
and  brothers  would  often  differ  j  neither  would  he  compare  the  friendship 
between  them  to  a  chain,  which  the  rain  might  rust,  or  a  tree  fall  upon 
and  break ;  but  he  should  consider  them  as  the  same  flesh  and  blood  with 
the  Christians,  the  same  as  if  a  man's  body  was  to  be  divided  into  two 
parts.  Taking  up  the  parchment,  he  then  presented  it  to  the  Sachem 
who  wore  the  horn  in  his  chaplet,  and  desired  him  and  the  other  Sachems 
to  preserve  it  carefully  for  three  generations,  that  their  children  might 
know  what  had  passed  between  them,  when  they  were  no  longer  living  to 
repeat  it.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  speeches  of  the  Indians,  on  this 
memorable  day,  have  not  come  down  to  us.  It  is  only  known  that  they 
solemnly  pledged  themselves,  according  to  the  manner  of  their  country, 


227 

fo  live  in  love  with  William  Perm  and  his  children  as  long  as  the  sua  and 
moon  should  endure.  Thus  ended  this  famous  treaty,  of  which  more  has 
been  said  in  the  way  of  praise,  than  of  any  other  ever  transmitted  to  pos 
terity." 

To  the  commendation  which  the  biographer  of  the  Man  of  Peace  be 
stows  on  this  honourable  transaction,  we  add  the  concise  eulogium  of 
Voltaire,  who  pronounced  it  to  be  "  the  only  treaty  which  was  ratified 
xvithout  an  oath,  and  the  only  one  which  was  never  broken." 

JVb/e41.—  tine  1138. 

"  Well  might  he  who  sigh'd 
A  fugitive  from  his  paternal  home 
Feel  for  the  outcast." 

Admiral  Penn,  being  greatly  displeased  at  his  son's  adoption  of  reli 
gious  principles  of  an  unpopular  class,  and  which  would  preclude  his  pre 
ferment  at  court,  treated  him  with  severity,  and  twice  indignantly  sent 
him  from  the  shelter  of  the  paternal  roof,  but  was  eventually  softened  by 
his  meekness  and  consistency  of  deportment,  into  reconciliation  and  the 
renewal  of  affection. 

Note  42.— Line  1145. 

"  Still  at  the  blest  name 
Of  the  beloved  Miquon,  starts  the  tear 
Of  Indian  gratitude." 

Heckewelder  observes,  that  "  never  will  the  tribe  of  the  Delawares 
forget  their  elder  brother  Miquon,  as  they  affectionately  and  respectfully 
call  him.  '  The  great  and  good  Miquon  came  to  us,'  they  say,  '  bring 
ing  the  words  of  peace  and  of  good  will.'  When  they  were  told  the 
meaning  of  the  name  of  Penn,  they  translated  it  into  their  own  language 
by  Miquon,  which  means  a  feather  or  quill.  The  Iroquois  also  called 
him  Onas,  which  in  their  idiom  signifies  the  same  thing."— Heckewel 
der ,  1st  volume. 

Note  43.— Line  1148. 

"  — faithful  as  the  race 
Of  Rechab  to  their  dying  Sire's  command." 

The  commendations  bestowed  on  the  Rechabites,  in  the  35th  chapter 
of  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  for  their  strict  obedience  to  the  injunctions  of  a, 


228 

departed  father,  might  be  in  a  degree  applied  to  the  followers  of  William 
Penn,  for  their  inflexible  adherence  to  his  precepts  with  regard  to  our 
aborigines.  Considered  too,  generally,  by  the  other  settlers,  either  as 
foes  to  be  exterminated,  or  vassals  to  be  oppressed,  they  received  from 
these  mild  colonists  the  charities  of  brethren.  Pennsylvania,  rising  on 
the  basis  of  fair  and  open  purchase,  unpolluted  by  injustice,  or  persecution 
of  the  natives,  in  her  institutions  acknowledged  their  allodial  right  to  the 
soil,  and  has  ever  been  preserved  from  those  desolating  wars,  which  dis 
tressed  the  infancy  of  many  of  our  territories,  and  threatened  to  destroy 
their  existence. 

Note  44.— Line  1200. 

"  —  wretched  Chief! 
Unhappy  Orellana." 

Orellana  was  chief  of  a  powerful  tribe  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Buenos 
Ayres.  With  ten  of  his  followers  he  was  seized,  and  treacherously  con 
veyed  on  board  a  Spanish  ship,  which,  with  a  large  crew  of  Spaniards, 
and  a  number  of  English  and  Portuguese  prisoners,  set  sail  from  the 
mouth  of  the  river  La  Plata,  in  the  month  of  November  1 745. 

Note  45.— Line  1211. 

"  Incessant  wrongs 
Harrow  thy  lofty  spirit." 

The  Spaniards  treated  the  Indians  with  great  insolence  and  barbarity. 
It  was  common  for  the  meanest  officers  in  the  ship  to  beat  them  most 
cruelly,  and  one  of  them,  a  very  brutal  fellow,  ordered  Orellano  aloft,  a 
service  which  he  knew  he  was  incapable  of  performing,  and  under  pretence 
of  disobedience  beat  him  with  such  violence  as  to  leave  him  bleeding  on 
the  deck,  stupified  with  bruises  and  wounds.  Orellana  and  his  followers 
bore  these  outrages  without  complaint,  but  they  were  secretly  meditating 
revenge  on  their  oppressors. 

Note  46.— Line  1229. 

"  With  thong  distaind." 

Previous  to  their  bold  attempt,  the  Chief,  and  his  companions  in 
wretchedness,  had  secretly  employed  their  leisure  in  cutting  thongs  from 
raw  hides,  and  in  fitting  to  each  extremity  of  them  the  double  headed  shot 


of  the  small  quarter-deck  guns.  These,  when  swung  around  their  heads, 
according  to  the  custom  of  their  country,  were  a  dangerous  weapon,  in 
the  use  of  which  the  natives  of  Buenos  Ayres  are  trained  from  their  in 
fancy,  and  consequently  very  expert. 

Note  47.— Line  1236. 

"  —  beneath  indos'd, 

Hundreds  of  pale  oppressors  shuddering  cower* dS* 
The  crew  consisted  of  nearly  500  men,  and  the  ship  mounted  66  guns. 
That  an  Indian  Chief,  with  only  ten  followers,  ignorant  of  nautical  man 
agement,  unacquainted  with  the  use  of  fire-arms,  and  unable  to  procure 
any  weapon,  except  the  knives  used  for  their  food,  and  the  thongs  already 
described,  should  be  able  to  lay  40  Spaniards  at  their  feet,  and  so  to  in 
timidate  a  formidable  crew  of  more  than  40  times  their  number,  as  to 
keep  uninterrupted  possession  of  the  ship  for  two  hours,  and  then  that 
they  should  be  attacked  merely  by  shot  fired  at  random  through  the  cabin 
doors,  and  other  crevices,  by  disciplined  men  who  feared  to  approach  them, 
is  a  fact  without  parallel  in  the  pages  of  history. 


20 


230 


NOTES 


TO 


Note  I.-— Line  IS. 

^"  Where  mourns  the  forest  Chieftain  o'er  his  race 
Banished  and  lost,  of  whom  not  one  remains 
To  pour  their  tears  for  him." 

The  following  speech  of  Logan,  a  Mingo  Chief,  was  given  by  the  late 
General  John  S.  Eustace  to  an  intimate  friend.  He  confirmed  its  au 
thenticity  by  the  information  that  it  was  presented  him  personally  by  Lord 
Dunmore,  to  whom  it  was  uttered  by  the  unfortunate  chief,  while  he  held 
the  station  of  Governor  of  Virginia. 

"  My  cabin,  since  first  I  had  one  of  my  own,  has  ever  been  open  to 
any  white  man  who  wanted  shelter.  My  spoils  of  hunting,  since  first  I 
began  to  range  these  woods,  have  I  ever  freely  imparted  to  appease  his 
hunger,  to  clothe  his  nakedness.  But  what  have  I  seen  ?  What  !  but 
that  at  my  return  at  night,  laden  with  spoil,  my  numerous  family  lie 
bleeding  on  the  ground,  by  the  hand  of  those  who  had  found  my  little  hut 
a  certain  refuge  from  the  inclement  storm,  who  had  eaten  my  food,  who 
had  covered  themselves  with  my  skins  !  What  have  I  seen  ?  What ! 
but  that  those  dear  little  mouths,  for  which  I  had  toiled  the  live-long 
day,  when  I  returned  at  eve  to  fill  them,  had  not  one  word  to  thank  me 
for  all  that  toil ! 

What  could  I  resolve  upon  ?  My  blood  boiled  within  me !  My 
heart  leaped  to  my  mouth  !  Nevertheless,  I  bid  my  tomahawk  be  quiet, 


and  lie  at  rest  for  that  war,  because  I  thought  the  great  men  of  your  coun 
try  sent  them  not  to  do  it.  Not  long  afterward,  some  of  your  men  in 
vited  our  tribe  to  cross  the  river,  and  bring  their  venison  with  them. 
They,  unsuspicious  of  evil  design,  came  as  they  had  been  invited.  The 
white  men  then  made  them  drunk,  murdered  them,  and  turned  their  knives 
even  against  the  women. 

Was  not  my  own  sister  among  them  ?  Was  she  not  scalped  by  the 
hands  of  that  very  man,  whom  she  had  taught  to  escape  his  enemies, 
when  they  were  scenting  out  his  track  !  What  could  I  resolve  upon  ? 
My  blood  now  boiled  thrice  hotter  than  before  !  Thrice  again  my  heart 
leaped  to  my  mouth.  I  bade  no  longer  my  tomahawk  be  quiet,  and  lie 
at  rest  for  that  war.  I  no  longer  thought  that  the  great  men  of  your 
country  sent  them  not  to  do  it.  I  sprang  from  my  cabin  to  avenge  their 
blood,  and  fully  have  I  done  it  in  this  war,  by  shedding  yours  from  your 
coldest  to  your  hottest  sun.  Thus  revenged,  I  am  now  for  peace.  To 
peace  have  I  advised  most  of  my  countrymen.  Nay  !  what  is  more,  I 
have  offered,  I  still  offer  myself  as  a  victim,  being  ready  to  die  if  their 
good  require  it.  Think  not  that  I  fear  death  !  1  have  no  relations  left 
to  mourn  for  me.  Logan's  blood  runs  in  no  veins  but  these.  I  would 
nor  turn  on  my  heel  to  escape  death.  And  why  should  I  ?  for  I  have 
neither  wife,  nor  child,  nor  sister,  to  howl  for  me  when  I  am  gone." 

The  following  version  of  an  "  Indian  Lament,"  which  recently  ap 
peared  in  the  public  prints,  unaccompanied  with  the  author's  name,  ex 
presses  with  simplicity  and  pathos,  some  of  the  feelings  which  characterize 
the  speech  of  Logan. 

"  The  black-bird  is  singing  on  Michigan's  shore, 

As  sweetly  and  gaily  as  ever  before  ; 

For  he  knows  to  his  mate  he  at  pleasure  can  hie 

And  the  dear  little  brood  she  is  teaching  to  fly. 

The  sun  looks  as  ruddy,  and  rises  as  bright, 

And  reflects  o'er  our  mountains  as  beamy  a  light 

As  it  ever  reflected,  or  ever  exprest, 

When  my  skies  were  the  bluest,  my  visions  most  blest, 

The  fox  and  the  panther,  both  beasts  of  the  night, 

Retire  to  their  dens  at  the  gleaming  of  light, 

And  they  spring  with  a  free  and  a  sorrowless  track,  . 


232 

For  they  know  that  their  mates  are  expecting  them  back 

.Each  bird,  and  each  beast,  it  is  blest  in  degree, 

All  nature  is  cheerful,  is  happy,  but  me. 

I  will  go  to  my  tent,  and  lie  down  in  despair, 

I  will  paint  me  with  black,  and  will  sever  my  hair ; 

I  will  sit  on  the  shore  where  the  hurricane  blows, 

And  reveal  to  the  god  of  the  tempest,  my  woes  : 

I  will  weep  for  a  season;  by  bitterness  fed, 

For  my  kindred  are  gone  to  the  hills  of  the  dead ; 

But  they  fell  not  by  hunger,  or  lingering  decay, 

The  steel  of  the  white  man  hath  swept  them  away, 

The  snake-skin  that  once  I  so  sacredly  bore, 

I  will  toss  with  disdain  to  the  storm-beaten  shore. 

Its  spell  I  no  longer  obey  or  invoke, 

Its  spirit  hath  left  me,  its  magic  is  broke. 

I  will  raise  up  my  voice  to  the  Source  of  the  Lightj 

I  will  dream  on  the  wings  of  the  Angels  of  Night, 

I  will  speak  with  the  spirits  that  whisper  in  leaves, 

And  that  minister  balm  to  the  bosom  that  grieves, 

f  will  take  a  new  Manitto,  one  who  shall  deign 

To  be  kind  and  propitious  to  sorrow  and  pain. 

Oli !  then  shall  I  banish  these  cankering  sighs, 

And  tears  shall  no  longer  gush  salt  from  mine  eyes, 

I  shall  wash  from  my  face  every  cloud  colour'd  stain, 

Red  !  red  !  shall  alone  on  my  visage  remain. 

I  will  dig  up  my  hatchet,  and  bend  my  oak  bow, 

By  night  and  by  day  will  I  follow  the  foe  ; 

No  lake  shall  repress  me,  no  mountain  oppose, 

For  blood  can  alone  give  my  bosom  repose. 

They  came  to  my  cabin,  when  heaven  was  black, 

I  heard  not  their  coming,  I  knew  not  their  track, 

Yet  I  saw  by  the  glare  of  their  blazing  fusees, 

They  were  people  engender'd  beyond  the  big  seas ; 

My  wife  and  my  children  !  oh  !  spare  me  the  tale* 

But  who  is  there  left  who  is  kin  to  Geehale  ? 


233 

Note  2.— Line  114. 

"  Say,  may  we  place 

Thy  name  upon  that  canvas,  which  high  Fame 
Blazons,  but  yet  inscribes  not  ?" 

The  celebrated  Scottish  novels,  which  have  excited  such  uncommon 
degrees,  both  of  admiration  and  curiosity,  seem  now  to  be  almost  gene 
rally  referred  to  the  pen  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  The  strong  resemblance 
between  the  poetical  works  acknowledged  to  be  his,  and  the  productions 
"  by  the  Author  of  Waverly,"  points  the  inquirer,  by  a  kind  of  internal 
evidence,  to  the  wand  of  "  that  great  Enchanter  of  the  North."  Yet  to 
the  public  it  seems  an  inexplicable  modesty,  which  should  incite  an  author 
to  withhold  so  long  his  name  from  works  so  vivid  in  description  as  to  an 
nihilate  the  barriers  of  distance,  and  dispel  the  mists  of  rime  ;  so  patriotic, 
that  strangers  from  all  nations  are  led  in  pilgrimage  to  Scotland,  to  do 
homage  to  her  lakes,  and  mountains,  and  ruined  castles,  and  caverns,  as 
if  some  tutelary  divinity  resided  there ;  so  brilliant  in  fancy,  that  the  lover 
of  romance  prefers  them  to  all  that  had  before  captivated  him,  yet  so 
faithful  to  history,  that  Truth  offers  them  as  a  guide  to  the  student ;  so 
replete  with  the  knowledge  of  human  nature,  that  Shakespeare  seems  to 
have  revived,  and  reinstituted  his  cluim  to  the  admiration  of  remote  pos 
terity. 

J\a0te  3. — Line  225. 

"  —  and  her  gift 
Grasped  as  the  bane  of  Famine." 

The  potatoe  is  styled  by  Mr.  Donaldson,  "  the  bread-root  of  Great- 
Britain  and  Ireland."  Writers  affirm  that  it  was  introduced  into  the 
latter  island  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  about  the  year  1623;  and  that  a 
vessel  laden  with  it,  and  wrecked  upon  the  coast  of  Lancashire,  was  the 
means  of  dispensing  its  benefits  to  England,  as  the  ship  of  Carthage, 
driven  upon  the  strand  of  Italy,  gave  a  fleet  to  Rome. 

But  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  in  his  communication  to  the  Horticultural  So 
ciety   of   London,   states  that  the  potatoe  was  brought  to  England  from 
Virginia,  by  some  colonists  sent  out  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  who  returned 
as  early  as  1586.     From   thence  it  was  soon  after  conveyed  to  Ireland, 
20* 


234 

where  it  was  cultivated,  and  extensively  used  among  the  common  people, 
before  the  inhabitants  of  England  were  fully  sensible  of  its  value. 

Note  4. — Line  226. 

"  The  fruitful  maize." 

America  has  the  honour  both  of  presenting  Europe  with  the  Solanum 
Tuberosum,  which  has  so  sensibly  diminished  the  ravages  of  famine  within 
her  bounds,  and  likewise  of  furnishing  the  native  soil  for  a  grain  remarka 
ble  for  its  productiveness,  and  second  only  to  wheat,  in  the  degree  of  nutri 
ment  it  affords  to  the  human  frame.  According  to  Marabelli's  analysis 
of  the  Zea  Mays,  it  "  contains  a  saccharine  matter  of  different  degrees 
of  purity,  from  wliich  alcohol,  the  oxalic  and  acetous  acids,  may  be  ob 
tained  ;  a  vegetable  amylaceous  substance,  a  glutinous  substance ;  muriat 
and  nitrat  of  magnesia  >  carbonats  of  potasb,  lime,  and  magnesia ;  and 
iron." 

Note  5.—  Line  264. 

"  The  firm  Diosjyyros." 

The  Diospyros  Virginiana  rises  to  the  height  of  from  fourteen  to  six 
teen  feet,  with  a  wood  extremely  hard  and  brittle.  It  produces  n  plumb 
of  about  the  size  of  a  date,  and  its  bark  is  useful  in  intermittent  fevers. 
The  bark  of  its  root  has  been  considered  also  a  tonic,  favourable  to  the 
treatment  of  dropsies. 

wVote  6.— Line  267. 

"  — freely  urgd 

The  cool  aperient  from  the  fragrant  bark 
Of  Sassafras." 

The  bark  of  the  Laurus  .Sassafras  is  a  remedy  in  intermittents.  "  Its 
oil,  also,"  says  the  late  Professor  Barton,  "  has  been  found  efficacious  when 
'externally  applied  in  cases  of  wens."  Another  plant  of  the  same  genus, 
the  Laurus  Benzoin,  commonly  called  Spice-  Wood,  enters  extensively  into 
the  materia  medica  of  the  natives.  A  decoction  of  its  twigs  is  an  agreea 
ble  aperient,  and  in  our  revolutionary  war,  when  the  patriotism  of  the  peo 
ple  incited  them  to  adopt  the  productions  of  their  own  country  in  the 
place  of  those  foreign  luxuries  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed,  the 
dried  and  pulverized  berries  of  the  Laurus  Benzoin  were  adopted  as  a 
substitute  for  allspice,  as  the  saccharine  juice  of  the  cornstalk  had  been 


235 

found  to  supply  the  place  of  molasses,  and  an  infusion  of  the  leaves  of 
the  sage,  to  supercede  the  teas  of  China. 

.Vote  l.—Lme.  269. 

"  Crojqj'd  the  fair  bloom  with  which  young  Sjmng  adorns 
Tkejlow'ring  Cornus." 

The  flowers  of  the  Cornus  Florida,  or  as  it  is  usually  called,  Dogwood, 
appear  in  the  spring,  and  exhibit  a  beautiful  appearance.  Their  large  and 
white  involucre  form  a  fine  contrast  to  the  forest  green,  and  their  hue 
becomes  gradually  more  delicate,  as  if  emulous  of  the  purity  of  snow. 
Our  natives  use  an  infusion  of  these  flowers  in  intermittents ;  and  some 
of  the  tribes  gave  a  name  to  the  season  of  Spring,  in  allusion  to  the  bloom 
of  this  plant.  Its  blossoms  are  succeeded  by  oblong  drupes  of  a  rich  crim 
son  tint,  which  are  sometimes  used  as  a  tonic  in  the  form  of  a  spirituous 
impregnation,  and  likewise  furnish  a  favourite  food  for  various  species  of 
birds.  Its  wood,  under  the  name  of  New-England  box,  is  held  in  high 
estimation  for  its  durability,  and  enters  into  the  construction  of  many 
articles  both  for  utility  and  ornament.  But  what  constitutes  its  principal 
value  is  the  discovery  that  its  inner  or  cortical  bark,  promises  to  be  equally 
valuable  with  the  Peruvian.  Indeed,  it  may  be  considered  superiour,  as 
being  less  nauseous  to  the  taste  and  the  stomach,  always  to  be  obtained 
in  abundance,  and  not  liable  to  the  danger  of  adulteration.  The  merits 
of  this  substance  as  a  medicine,  have  been  clearly  and  forcibly  displayed  by 
Dr.  Walker  of  Virginia,  in  an  inaugural  dissertation  on  the  comparative 
virtues  of  the  Cornus  florida,  Cornus  sericea,  and  Cinchona  officinalis  of 
Linnaeus.  After  detailing  a  number  of  chemical  experiments,  he  re 
marks  :  "  A  summary  recapitulation  of  these  experiments  shews,  that  the 
Cornus  florida,  sericea,  and  Peruvian  bark,  possess  the  same  ingredients  ; 
that  is,  gum,  mucilage,  and  extracts ;  which  last  contain  the  tannin  and 
gallic  acid,  though  in  different  proportions.  The  Florida  has  most  of 
the  gum  mucilage  and  extracts  ;  the  Sericea  the  next,  which  appears  to 
be  an  intermediate  between  the  Florida  and  Cinchona  ;  while  the  latter 
possesses  most  of  the  resin.  Their  virtues  appear  similar,  and  equal,  in 
their  residence.  The  extract  and  resin  possess  all  their  active  powers. 
The  extract  appears  to  possess  all  their  tonic  powers.  The  resin,  when 
perfectly  separated  from  the  extract,  appeajrs  to  be  purely  stimulant ;  and 


536 

probably  the  tonic  powers  of  the  extract  are  increased  when  combined  with 
a  portion  of  the  resin,  as  in  the  spirituous  tincture."  Dr.  Gregg,  of  Bristol 
in  Pennsylvania,  in  a  testimony  to  the  merits  of  the  Cornus  florida,  asserts^ 
that  during  a  period  of  23  years,  experience  of  its  virtues  had  convinced 
him,  "  that  it  was  not  inferior  to  the  Peruvian  bark  in  curing  intermittents ; 
nor  inferior  as  a  corroborant  in  all  cases  of  debility." 

J\'ote  8.— Line  270. 

"  Anxiously  they  sought 
The  Liriodendron." 

The  bark  of  the  Liriodendron  Tulipifera  is  considered  by  some  as  scarcely 
inferior  to  the  Cinchona  in  the  cure  of  fevers.  It  has  also  been  classed 
among  remedies  in  cases  of  gout  and  rheumatism.  This  fine  tree  produces 
flowers  resembling  the  tulip,  beautifully  variegated  with  light  green,  yellow 
and  orange,  and  standing  solitary  at  the  extremities  of  the  branches.  The 
leaves  of  this  tree  have  a  peculiarly  obtuse  form,  and  its  young  bark  is 
aromatic. 

Note  9  —Line  272. 

"  —  sanguine  Cornus,  with  Us  snoivy  cup 
And  sapphire  drupe." 

The  Cornus  sericea,  or  American  Red-root  cornel,  is  sometimes  called 
from  the  colour  of  the  epidermial  covering  of  its  young  shoots,  the  Red- 
Willow.  It  is  found  in  a  moist  soil,  usually  by  the  banks  of  rivers,  and 
seldom  exceeds  the  height  of  ten  or  twelve  feet.  Its  white  flowers  appear 
in  clusters,  and  are  succeeded  by  a  succulent  drupe  of  a  blue  colour.  The 
North-Carolinian  Indians  scrape  the  inner  bark  as  a  substitute  for  tobacco, 
or  sometimes  use  it  as  an  adjunct  to  that  plant.  It  is  considered  in  me 
dicine  equal  to  the  pale  Peruvian  bark.  "  When  we  consider,"  says  Dr. 
Walker,  "  the  causes  of  the  various  forms  of  disease  which  are  the  en 
demics  of  our  country,  we  cannot  but  receive  additional  inducements  to 
regard  the  Corni  as  the  most  valuable  vegetable  which  Nature,  in  the 
prolificness  of  her  bounty,  has  scattered  through  the  wide  forests  of  North- 
America.  For  so  long  as  the  mouldering  ruins  of  our  swamps,  and  the 
uncultivated  conditions  of  our  marshes,  shall  afford  materials  for  the  pec 
cant  operations  of  an  autumnal  sun,  we  shall  view  with  peculiar  delight 
the  virtues  of  these  two  vegetables,  which  inherit  the  two  essential  charac- 


237 


ters  of  the  most  valuable  division  of  the  materia  medica,  I  mean  bitterness 
and  astringency  5  to  the  happy  union  of  which  the  Corni  have  a  claim  as 
respectable  as  that  which  has  procured  for  the  Peruvian  bark  a  celebrity 
as  extensive  as  the  bounds  of  rational  medicine.  Indeed,  so  striking  is 
the  similitude,  so  exact  the  result  from  comparative  trials,  that  in  this  at 
tempt  to  recommend  the  Cornus  florida  and  sericea,  to  the  attention  of 
practising  physicians,  I  cannot  even  review  the  forms  of  disease,  in  the 
particular  states  of  which  the  Corni  are  indicated,  without  encroaching 
upon  the  reputation  of  the  cinchona ;  for  in  truth  it  may  be  said,  that  in 
whatever  form  of  disease  the  cinchona  has  been  decidedly  serviceable,  the 
Corni  will  be  found  equally  so.  And  if  we  make  allowances  for  the 
chances  and  inducements  to  adulteration  in  the  former,  for  our  relationship 
to  the  latter,  for  its  wide  extent  through  the  very  soil  in  which  are  engen 
dered  the  seeds  of  those  maladies  which  their  virtues  are  fitted  to  remove, 
we  must  acknowledge  their  superiority.  Experiments  of  a  diversified 
nature  warrant  this  conclusion.  They  are  like  the  cinchona,  bitter  and 
astringent  in  the  mouth,  tonic  and  febrifuge  in  the  stomach  ;  and  their 
chemical  analysis  affords  results  perfectly  analogous." 

Jfote  10. — Line  274. 

"  —  ivoo'd  thy  potent  spell 
Magnolia  G-randiftora." 

This  magnificent  tree  throws  out  its  large  white  fragrant  blossoms  in 
July.  Its  medicinal  virtues  were  familiar  to  our  natives,  while  they  were 
accustomed  proudly  to  point  it  out  as  the  glory  of  the  forest.  "  The 
bark  of  its  root,"  says  the  late  Professor  Barton,  "  is  used  in  Florida,  in 
combination  with  the  Snake-Root,  as  a  substitute  for  the  Peruvian  bark, 
in  the  treatment  of  intermittent  fevers." 

JVote  1L— Line  282. 

"  —  the  pure  blood 
Of  Liquidambar." 

The  Liquidambar  Styraciflua  is  found  near  the  banks  of  rivulets,  tall, 
and  elegantly  formed,  with  leaves  of  a  beautiful  lustre.  From  wounds 
made  in  the  trunk  of  this  tree,  a  fragrant  gum  exudes,  which  operates  as 
a  powerful  tonic.  The  Southern  natives  were  in  the  habit  of  drying  its 
leaves  to  mingle  with  their  tobacco  for  smoking. 


238 
Note  12.—  Line  283. 

"  —  the  pores 
Of  the  balsamic  Populus." 

u  Under  the  head  of  general  stimulants  may  be  classed  the  resin  of  the 
Populus  balsamifera,  called  Balsam,  or  Tacamahaca-tree.  This  is  a  na 
tive  of  North-America  and  Siberia.  The  resin  is  procured  from  the  leaf- 
buds.  This  balsam  is  so  very  penetrating,  that  it  communicates  its  pecu 
liar  smell  and  taste  to  the  flesh  of  the  birds  which  feed  upon  its  buds."-— 
Collection  towards  a  Maieria  Medico  of  the  United  States.  By  Dr.  Ben 
jamin  Smith  Barton. 

Note  13.—  Line  288. 

"  —  which  the  bold  Ayrshire  bard 
Wish'd  in  his  patriot  vengeance  to  entail 
On  Caledonia's  foes.'' 

"  Oh  !  thou  grim  mischief-making  chiel 
Who  gar'st  the  notes  of  Discord  squeel, 
Till  daft  mankind  aft  dance  a  reel 

In  gore  a  shoe-thick  ; 
Gie  a'  the  foes  of  Scotland's  weal, 
A  towmond's  tooth-ache.  '- 

Burns'  Works. 


14.—  Line  291. 

*'  —  the  rough  genius  of  that  lofty  tree 
Whose  yelloiv  armour  bears  in  countless  studs 
The  horrid  thorn." 

The  botanical  genus  Xanthoxylum,  received  its  name  on  account  of 
the  yellow  colour  of  its  wood.  The  species  Clava  Herculis,  which  was 
used  by  our  Indians  in  the  cure  of  the  Tooth-  Ache,  is  sometimes  called 
the  great  prickly  Yellow  wood.  The  trunk  often  grows  to  the  height  of 
30  or  40  feet,  armed  with  very  powerful  prickles,  which  are  thick  at  the 
base,  and  angular  and  sharp  at  the  point.  The  leaves  are  pinnate,  and  a 
foot  in  length,  the  foot  stalks  armed  with  strait  thorns  of  a  third  of  an 
inch.  This  is  frequently  denominated  the  Tooth-  Ache  Tree,  and  its  bark 
and  seed  vessels  have  the  property  of  a  powerful  stimulant,  when,  takerr 


239 

internally,  and  have  been  found  useful  in  cases  of  Rheumatism.  The 
medicinal  virtues  of  another  species  of  this  plant,  the  "  franaxifolium,' 
were  also  known  to  the  natives.  Lawson  remarks,  that  they  extracted 
from  its  berries  the  salivating  power  of  mercury,  and  made  use  of  decoc 
tions  of  the  plant,  as  strong  perspiratives. 

Note  15.— Line  295. 

"  A  verdant  barrier  of  fresh-gather 'd  leavers 
Cull'dfrom  an  acrid  plant." 

The  Indians  of  Demarara  use  the  leaves  of  the  Dracontium  pertusum 
"in  the  treatment  of  obstinate  dropsies.  "  The  body  of  the  patient  is  cov 
ered  with  them,  and  a  universal  perspiration,  or  rather  vesication  induced, 
after  which  the  subject  often  recovers."  The  leaves  of  this  plant  are  re 
markable  for  numerous  elliptical  perforations. 

Note  16. — Line  298. 

"  Where  Rhododendron  like  some  drooping  maid 
Timid  and  beauteous  hides  her  golden  locks." 

The  Rhododendron  Chrysanthemum,  or  golden  flowered  Rhododendron, 
fs  a  beautiful  shrub,  and  of  high  reputation  in  the  treatment  of  Chronic 
Rheumatism.  An  infusion  of  its  leaves  is  both  stimulant  and  narcotic. 
It  has  been  celebrated  in  Russia  for  the  cure  of  the  same  disease,  and  is 
procured  in  Siberia,  Kamschatka,  and  Bherring's  Island. 

j\"0te  17.— Line  301. 

"  Or  lur^d  her  statelier  sister's  aid  to  bribe 

Relentless  Chronic  Rheumatism." 

"The  inflorescence  of  the  Rhododendron  maximum  is  almost  umbellate ; 
the  blossoms  delicately  coloured,  having  the  red  and  white  tints  of  an  ap 
ple  blossom,  while  the  green  and  yellow  dots  on  their  upper  segment  are 
strikingly  conspicuous."  Of  close  affinity  to  the  Rhododendron  is  the 
genus  Kalmia,  of  which  many  species  are  poisonous.  The  Kalmia  latifo- 
lia  was  formerly  used  by  those  miserable  natives  who  had  determined  on 
suicide.  But  modern  enterprize  has  successfully  enlisted  it  in  the  service 
of  medicine,  and  it  is  applied,  in  a  pulverized  form,  internally,  in  fevers, 
or  topically,  for  the  relief  of  cutaneous  affections. 


240 

Note  IS.— Line  307. 

"  How  vivid  is  the  eye 
Of  bright  Lobelia  in  her  scarlet  robe." 

The  genus  Lobelia  is  connected  by  several  of  its  species  with  the  mate- 
ria  medica.  Our  natives  were  well  acquainted  with  this  fact,  particularly 
with  the  virtues  of  the  blue  Lobelia,  and  the  Lobelia  inflata,  both  of  which 
are  lactescent.  A  decoction  of  the  root  of  the  beautiful  Lobelia  Cardina- 
lis,  is  extensively  used  by  the  Cherokees  as  an  anthelmintic. 

Note  19.— Line  317. 

"  Thus  with  bold  hand  compelling  the  proud  force 
Of  deadly  Hellebore." 

<(  In  ancient  Egypt,  the  insane  were  conducted  to  those  temples,  in 
which  were  collected  whatever  seemed  calculated  to  please  the  eye,  and 
rivet  the  attention.  There,  as  they  wandered  from  one  magnificent  ob 
ject  to  another,  the  world  and  its  vexations  were  forgotten,  and  amid  the 
deep  interest  of  the  scene,  the  gloomy  images  which  haunted  them  were 
banished  from  their  minds.  In  Greece,  on  the  other  hand,  the  followers 
of  Hippocrates  relied  exclusively  on  the  specific  powers  of  Hellebore  and 
its  adjuvants ;  medicines  which,  at  this  day,  are  rarely  employed."— 
Report  of  a  committee  of  the  Medical  Society  of  Connecticut,  respecting 
an  Asylum  for  the  Insane. 

Note  20.— Line  327. 

"  Where  the  May- Apple  loads  the  pendant  bough 
With  emerald  clusters." 

The  Podophyllum  peltatum,  generally  called  the  May-Apple,  is  a 
Common  plant  throughout  the  United  States.  Its  fruit  is  about  the  size 
of  a  common  plumb,  of  green  colour,  and  esculent.  The  leaves  are  poi 
sonous,  and  the  root,  which  is  a  very  active  medicine,  resembles  that  of 
the  black  Hellebore. 

Note  21.— Line  328. 

"  Where  th*  Asclepias  bows 
Her  bright,  decumbent  petals." 

The  Asclepias  decumbens,  with  flowers  of  a  bright  orange-colour,  is  a 
beautiful  and  frequent  ornament  of  our  fields.  It  has  sometimes  been 
called  Pleurisy-Root,  from  its  salutary  influence  in  that  disease ;  and  also 


241 

Butterfly-weed,  from  the  attraction  which  it  appears  to  possess  for  this 
species  of  insect.  Its  root  is  used  in  a  pulverized  form  ;  and  the  high 
opinion  entertained  of  it,  by  the  native  tribes,  seems  to  be  confirmed  by 
the  testimony  of  some  »f  our  scientific  medical  practitioners. 

Note  22. — Line  331. 

"  —  ivherc,  embowering  blooms 
The  fair  Convolvulus,  gleaming  with  tints 
Of  purple  lustre." 

Among  the  extensive  genus  Convolvolus,  the  panduratus  is  distinguish 
ed  for  its  medicinal  powers.  It  produces  large  white  flowers,  whose  bases 
are  deeply  tinged  with  a  fine  purple.  Its  root  is  used  either  in  powder, 
or  decoction  ;  and  from  it  the  southern  Indians  gain  their  "  Mechameck" 
or  wild  Rhubarb.  From  another  species  of  Convolvolus  an  extract, 
resembling  Scammomy,  is  obtained. 

Note  23.— Line  332. 

"  —  or  the  Cassia  shoots 
Its  aromatic  stem,  and  slender  leaf 
With  saver  lind." 

The  Cassia  Marilandica  is  referred  to  in  this  passage,  which  was  num 
bered  by  our  aborigines  among  their  cathartics.  Several  of  the  other 
species  of  this  plant  hold  a  far  more  conspicuous  place  in  the  pharmaco 
peia  of  modern  science  than  the  marilandica.  Such,  for  instance,  are  the 
Senna,  an  Asiatic  and  African  plant ;  the  Emarginata,  which  in  Jamaica, 
its  native  soil,  is  used  as  a  substitute  for  the  Senna ;  the  Occidentalis, 
which  in  the  same  island  is  considered  a  powerful  ingredient  in  fomenta 
tions  and  baths  for  inflamed  limbs ;  the  Fistula,  which  forms  the  basis  of 
a  mild  and  salubrious  electuary  ;  the  Italica,  a  native  of  North- Africa 
and  the  Levant ;  and  the  Alata,  found  both  in  the  East  and  West  Indies, 
the  juice  of  whose  leaves  and  buds  is  a  remedy  in  cutaneous  affections. 
To  these,  it  may  not  perhaps  be  improper  to  add  the  Cassia  Chamae- 
crista,  which  is  cultivated  in  parts  of  Maryland  and  Virginia,  to  recover 
exhausted  lands,  or  enrich  those  which  are  barren  by  nature. 

21 


242 
Note  24.— Line  339. 

11  That  sinuous  root,  which  blind  Credulity 
Hail'd  as  a  shield  against  the  serpent's  fang, 
J5ut  Truth  enrolls  amid  her  precious  spells 
For  wan  Disease." 

The  Polygala  Senega,  the  celebrated  Snake-Root  of  our  natives,  though 
now  discredited  as  an  antidote  to  the  bite  of  the  Rattle -Snake,  is  exhibit 
ed  with  success  by  some  of  our  physicians,  in  the  treatment  of  several 
diseases.  Pursh  mentions  two  varieties  of  this  species,  "  one  with  white 
flowers  in  a  dense  spike,  the  other  with  rose  coloured  flowers  in  a  loose 
clustre,  and  with  narrower  leaves." 

Note  25.— Line  342. 

"  —  to  its  rocky  home 
Lur'd  by  a  purple  ensign,  like  the  tinge 
Of  the  pure  Amethyst,  detected  oft 
The  hidden  Fever-root." 

The  Friosteum  Perfoliatum  is  found  in  rich  rocky  grounds  through 
a  great  part  of  the  United  States.  It  is  however  a  rare  plant,  and 
distinguished  by  the  deep  purple  tinge  of  its  flowers  and  drupes.  The 
cortex  of  the  root  is  a  carthartic,  and  partakes  also  of  the  properties  of 
Ipecacuanha.  So  extensive  was  the  acquaintance  of  our  natives  with 
medicines  of  the  latter  description,  that  the  late  Dr.  Benjamin  S.  Barton 
mentions,  that  "  the  Six  nations  make  use  of  at  least  twelve  or  fourteen 
different  emetics,  all  of  which,  except  the  sulphate  of  iron,  are  vegetables." 

•TVWe  26.— Line  342. 

"  —  or  dext'rous  pierc'd 
The  Ginseng's  cavern." 

The  Panax  Quinquefolium  is  found  in  the  mountainous  woods  of 
North-America,  and  Chinese  Tartary.  It  is  an  umbelliferous  plant,  and 
its  simple  white  flower  is  succeeded  by  a  heart-shaped  scarlet  drupe.  It 
is  gently  stimulant,  and  our  Indians  frequently  prepare  a  tea  from  its 
leaves.  Adair  mentions  that  some  of  them  are  accustomed  to  use  a 
strong  decoction  of  this  plant  in  their  ceremonies  upon  religious  occasions. 
The  Asiatic  Ginseng  is  considered  superior  to  the  American.  The 


243 

Chinese  and  Tartars  entertain  so  high  an   opinion  of  its  virtues,   as  to 
denominate  it  "the  plant  that  giveth  immortality," 

Note  27. — Line  351. 

"  The  Iris  'lumining  her  damp  alcove 
With  bright  prismatic  lustre,  to  their  will 
Resign  d  her  rainbow  lamp." 

The  Iris  Versicolor  and  Iris  Verna  are  used  by  the  Southern  Indiaus 
as  cathartics.  The  Florentina  also,  a  native  of  Italy,  has  an  acrid  root, 
which  in  its  fresh  state  is  a  powerful  cathartic,  and  when  dry  operates  as 
an  expectorant.  The  root  of  the  Palustris,  or  Palustris  Lutea,  is  both  an 
errhine  and  sialagogue.  When  fresh  it  is  a  strong  cathartic,  but  after 
being  dried  ranks  among  astringents.  It  has  been  recommended  as  a 
remedy  in  the  tooth-ache  ;  and  beside  its  subserviency  to  the  materia- 
medica,  furnishes  a  deep  black  dye,  and  is  used  in  Scotland  for  making 
ink.  This  extensively  variegated  genus  is  well  known  to  have  received 
its  name  of  Iris,  from  the  ancient  Greeks,  on  account  of  the  concentric 
hues  of  the  flower,  exhibiting  a  faint  resemblance  to  the  rainbow. 

Note  28.— Line  353. 

« — that  tall  plant 

Whose  Jlow^r  and  budding  leaf  together  spring." 

The  Dirca  Palustris  is  found,  as  its  name  indicates,  in  a  wet  soil.  It 
rises  to  the  height  of  five  or  six  feet,  and  flowers  in  April,  before  the 
expansion  of  its  leaves.  Its  bark  partakes  of  the  properties  of  canthari- 
des,  and  some  of  our  aborignes  use  as  a  cathartic,  a  decoction  of  the 
cortex  of  its  root.  Its  common  appellation  of  Leather- Wood  is  justi 
fied  by  the  character  of  its  bark,  which  is  so  tough  and  pliant,  as  to  tje 
wrought  into  ropes  and  baskets  for  domestic  accommodation. 

Note  29.— Line  361. 

"  The  firm  Cassine  endures  the  wrecking  storm, 

And  changeful  season,  by  tradition  styVd 

The  boon  of  Heaven." 

The  Ilex  Vomitoria,  or  Evergreen  Cassine,  is  a  native  of  West 
Florida.  An  infusion  of  it  is  the  standard  medicine  of  the  Southern 
Indians.  It  has  been  supposed  that  this  is  the  same  plant  which  is  found 


244 

in  Paraguay,  the  sale  of  whose  leaves  is  to  the  Jesuits  such  an  important 
branch  of  revenue.  It  is  found  also  in  Carolina,  and  among  some  of  our 
tribes  was  held  in  such  high  esteem,  that  the  decoction  of  its  toasted 
leaves  called  "  black  drink,"  their  women  were  not  permitted  to  taste. 
Lawson,  in  recording  a  tradition  of  this  plant,  says  "  The  savages  of 
Carolina  have  it  in  veneration  above  all  the  plants  they  are  acquainted 
withal,  and  tell  you  the  discovery  thereof  was  by  an  infirm  Indian,  who 
laboured  under  the  burden  of  many  rugged  distempers,  and  could  not 
be  cured  by  all  their  Doctors  ;  so,  one  day  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamt 
that  if  he  took  a  decoction  of  the  tree  that  grew  at  his  head,  he  would 
certainly  be  cured  :  upon  which  he  awoke,  and  saw  the  Yaupon, 
or  Cassine-tree,  which  was  not  there  when  he  fell  a  sleep.  He  followed, 
the  direction  of  his  dream,  and  became  perfectly  well  in  a  short  time. 
Now  I  suppose,  no  man  has  so  little  sense  as  to  believe  this  fable ;  yet 
it  lets  us  see  what  they  intend  thereby,  and  that  it  has  doubtless  worked 
feats  enough,  to  gain  it  such  an  esteem  among  these  savages,  who  are 
too  well  versed  in  vegetables,  to  be  brought  to  a  continual  use  of  any  one 
of  them,  upon  a  mere  conceit  or  fancy,  without  son  e  apparent  benefit 
they  found  thereby  ;  especially  when  we  are  sensible,  that  they  drink 
the  juices  of  plants,  to  free  nature  of  her  burthens,  and  not  out  of  fop 
pery  and  fashion,  as  other  nations  are  oftentimes  found  to  do," 

In  closing  these  botanical  notes,  which  probably  comprize  but  a  small 
number  of  the  medicinal  plants  known  to  our  natives,  the  words  of  the 
•  late  Professor  Barton,  whose  attention  to  this  subject  marked  at  once  his 
perseverence  and  benevolence,  are  particularly  appropriate.  "Judging 
from  the  discoveries  which  have  been  made  in  the  term  of  three  hundred 
years,  it  may  be  safely  conjectured,  that  there  are  no  countries  of  the 
globe  from  which  there  is  reason  to  expect  greater  or  more  valuable 
accessions  to  the  Materia-Medica,  than  those  of  America.  In  conduct 
ing  our  inquiries  into  the  properties  of  the  medicinal  vegetables  of  our 
country,  much  useful  information  may,  I  am  persuaded,  be  obtained 
through  the  medium  of  our  intercourse  with  the  Indians.  Some  of  the 
rudest  tribes  of  our  continent  are  acquainted  with  the  general  medical 
properties  of  many  of  their  vegetables.  We  shall  find  that  the  Materia 
Medica  of  these  people  contains  but  few  substances  as  inert  as  many  of 
\kose  which  have  a  place  in  our  books  on  this  science.  What  treasures. 


245 

of  medicine  may  not  be  expected  from  a  people,  who,  although  destitute 
of  the  lights  of  science,  have  discovered  the  properties  of  some  of  the 
most  inestimable  medicines  with  which  we  are  acquainted  ?  Without 
mentioning  the  productions  of  South- America,  let  it  be  recollected,  that 
it  is  to  the  rude  tribes  of  the  United  States  that  we  are  indebted  for  our 
knowledge  of  Polygala  Senega,  Aristolochia  Serpentaria,  and  Spigelia 
3Iarilandica." 

Note  30.— Line  394. 

"  —  its  lambent  spire 

Played  round  the  temples,  and  the  hoary  head 
Of  old  Shcnandoah" 

Shenandoah,  a  venerable  chief  of  the  Oncidas,  who  died  at  the  advanc 
ed  age  of  113,  thus  expressed  before  his  departure,  the  deep  feeling  of 
his  loneliness.  "  I  am  an  aged  hemlock.  The  winds  of  a  hundred 
years  have  swept  over  its  branches.  It  is  dead  at  the  top  Those  who 
began  life  with  me,  have  run  away  from  me.  Why  I  am  suffered  thus 
to  remain  God  only  knows."  Not  inferior  in  pathos,  was  the  request 
of  Scanando,  an  aged  chieftain  of  the  same  tribe,  who  had  embraced 
Christianity.  "  Lay  me  in  death  by  the  side  of  my  minister,  and  my 
friend,  that  I  may  go  up  with  him  at  the  great  resurrection." 

Note  31.— Line  399. 

"  Thou  at  ivhose  name 
Our  kindling  ivarriorsfor  the  battle  arm." 

This  speech  was  addressed  to   Gen.  Washington  in  1790,  by  Corn- 
planter,  a  celebrated  Seneca  chief. 

Note  32.— Line  439. 

"  Dec])  sighs  he  breathes 
To  the  Great  Spirit  ivhen  (he  sun  declines, 
And  ere  his  first  ray  lig/tls  the  trembling  Morn 
He  renders  praise." 

Our  natives  were  habituated  to  address  their  prayers  to  the  Great 
Spirit.  This  was  noticed  by  many  of  the  first  colonists,  and  Roger 
Williams,  one  of  the  early  settlers  of  New  England,  and  governor  of 
Rhode  Island,  remarks,  "  I  have  heard  a  poor  Indian  lamenting  the  loss 


246 

of  his  child,  call  up  at  the  break  of  day,  his  wife  and  family,  to  laments-* 
tion,  and  with  abundance  of  tears  cry  out,  '  Oh  God  !  Thou  hast  taken 
away  my  child.  Thou  art  angry  with  me.  Oh  turn  thine  anger  from  me, 
and  spare  thou  the  rest  of  my  children.'"  "  The  Indian  when  he  wor 
ships  his  Creator,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr.  Heckewelder,  "  does  not  forget 
to  pray  that  he  may  be  endowed  with  courage  to  fight,  and  conquer  his 
enemies,  among  whom  he  includes  savage  beasts.  When  he  has  per 
formed  some  heroic  act,  he  will  not  forget  to  acknowledge  it  as  a  mark 
of  divine  favour,  by  making  a  sacrifice  or  publickly  announcing  that  his 
success  was  entirely  owing  to  the  courage  given  him  by  the  All-Powerful 
Spirit.  This  habitual  devotion  to  the  Great  First  Cause,  and  a  strong 
feeling  of  gratitude  for  the  favours  that  he  confers,  is  one  of  the  promi 
nent  traits  that  characterize  the  mind  of  the  untutor'd  Indian.  An  old 
Indian  told  me,  about  fifty  years  ago,  that  when  he  was  young  he  still 
followed  the  custom  of  his  fathers  and  ancestors,  of  climbing  upon  a  high 
mountain  to  thank  the  Great  Spirit,  for  his  benefits  bestowed,  and  to 
entreat  a  continuance  of  his  favour  ;  and  that  they  were  sure  that  their 
prayers  were  heard,  and  acceptable  to  the  Great  Spirit,  though  he  did  not 
himself  appear  to  them."  These  declarations  of  their  faith  in  the  inefficacy  of 
prayer,  may  be  concluded  by  a  specimen  of  their  devotion,  at  once  pathetic 
.and  sublime.  "  O  Eternal !  have  mercy  upon  me,  because  I  am  passing 
away, — O  Infinite  !  because  I  am  but  a  speck, — O  Most  Mighty  !  be 
cause  I  am  weak, — O  Source  of  Life  !  because  I  draw  nigh  to  the  grave, 

O   Omniscient !  because   I  am  in  darkness, — O  All  Bounteous  !  be- 

sjause  I  am  poor, — O  All  Sufficient !  because  I  am  nothing." 

Note  33. — Line  475. 

•"  From  a  tow'ring  height 
They  marked  the  goodly  prospect." 

These  Chieftains  view'd  the  city  of  New  York,  from  the  balcony  of 
Congress-Hall,  where  a  dinner  was  given  them  in  1789,  when  the$r 
came  to  treat  on  national  affairs. 


247 


Note  34. — jLtnc-530. 

"  Full  many  a  strain- 
Of  native  eloquence,  simple  and  wild 
Has  risen  in  our  dark  forests." 

A  bold,  nervous,  and  figurative  style  characterizes  the  speeches,  and 
even  the  more  common  communications  of  our  aborigines.  More  liber 
ally  than  other  savage  nations,  they  seem  to  have  been  endowed  with  the 
gift  of  Nature's  eloquence.  Most  of  their  effusions  have  literally  been 
poured  upon  the  regardless  winds ;  though  the  existence  of  a  few  have 
been  preserved,  principally  in  miscellaneous  collections.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Heckewelder,  has  recorded  a  speech,  which  was  delivered  in  Detroit, 
Dec.  9,  1801,  by  a  Chief  of  the  Delaware  tribe,  and  addressed  to  the 
commanding  officer  of  that  post,  then  in  the  hands  of  the  British.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  revolutionary  war,  the  Lenni  Lenape  having  in 
vain  endeavoured  to  remain  neutral,  generally  joined  the  Americans  ; 
but  this  Chief  with  his  party  had  become  allies  of  the  English.  It 
seems  that  they  had  repented  when  it  was  too  late  to  retract,  and  were 
compelled  to  continue  in  hostility  to  the  Americans.  At  their  return  from 
an  expedition,  the  following  report  was  made  to  the  British  command 
ant  in  the  Council-house  at  Detroit,  before  a  large  concourse.  "  Several 
missionaries  were  present,"  says  Mr.  Heckewelder,  "among  whom  I 
was.  The  Chief  was  seated  in  front  of  his  Indians,  facing  the  Com 
mandant.  In  his  left  hand  he  held  a  scalp,  tied  to  a  short  stick.  After 
a  pause  of  some  minutes  he  arose,  and  thus  addressed  the  Governor. 

"  Father  !  (at  the  utterance  of  this  word,  the  orator  stopped,  and 
turning  round  to  the  audience,  with  a  face  full  of  meaning,  and  a  sar 
castic  look  which  I  should  in  vain  attempt  to  describe,  went  on  convers 
ing  with  them,)  I  have  said  Father,  although,  I  do  not  know  why  I  am 
to  call  him  so,  having  never  known  any  other  Father  than  the  French, 
and  considering  the  English  only  as  brothers."  It  may  perhaps  be  well  to 
mention  here,  that  the  Delawares  had  been  steadfast  friends  of  the  French, 
in  the  war  of  1756,  but  after  the  peace  in  1763,  having  vainly  hoped 
that  their  Father,  the  King  of  France,  would  send  an  army,  to  retake 
Canada,  they  submitted  with  reluctance  to  the  British  government. 
"  But  as  this  name,"  said  the  orator,  "  has  been  imposed  upon  us»  I 


248 

shall  make  use  of  it,  and  say  (fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  Commandant,) 
Father  !  sometime  ago,  you  put  a  war-hatchet  into  my  hand,  saying, 
*  Take  this  weapon,  and  try  it  on  the  heads  of  my  enemies,  the  Long- 
knives,  and  bring  me  word  if  it  is  sharp  and  good.'  Father !  at  the 
time  when  you  gave  me  this  weapon  I  had  neither  cause  nor  inclination  to 
go  to  war  with  a  people  who  had  done  me  no  injury.  Yet  in  obedience 
to  you,  who  say,  that  you  are  my  Father,  and  call  me  your  child,  I 
received  the  hatchet :  well  knowing  that  if  I  did  not  obey,  you  would 
withhold  from  me  the  necessaries  of  life,  without  which  I  could  not  sub 
sist  ;  and  where  elSe  should  I  procure  them,  but  at  the  house  of  a 
parent. 

"  Father  !  You  perhaps  think  me  a  fool,  for  risking  my  life  at  your 
bidding ;  in  a  cause  too,  where  I  have  no  prospect  of  gain.  It  is  your 
cause,  and  not  mine.  It  is  your  concern  to  fight  the  Long-knives ;  you 
have  raised  a  quarrel  among  yourselves,  and  you  ought  yourselves  to 
fight  it  out.  If  the  Indians  be  your  children,  you  should  not  compel  them 
to  expose  themselves  to  danger  for  your  sakes.  Father  !  Many  lives 
have  been  already  lost  on  your  account.  Nations  have  suffered,  and 
been  weakened.  Children  have  lost  parents.  Wives  have  lost  husbands. 
Who  can  know  how  many  more  may  perish,  before  your  war  will  be  at 
an  end  ?  Father !  I  have  said  that  you  may  perhaps  think  me  a 
fool,  for  thus  thoughtlessly  rushing  on  your  enemy.  Do  not  believe 
this,  Father !  Think  not  that  I  want  sense  to  convince  me  that  although 
you  now  pretend  to  keep  up  a  perpetual  enmity  to  the  Long- Knives,  you 
may  before  long  conclude  a  peace  with  them. 

"  Father  !  You  say  you  love  your  children,  the  Indians.  This  you 
have  often  told  them  :  indeed  it  is  your  interest  to  say  so,  that  you  may 
have  them  at  your  service.  But  Father  !  Who  of  us  can  believe  that 
it  is  possible  for  you  to  love  a  people  of  different  colour  from  your  own, 
better  than  those  who  have  a  white  skin  like  yourselves  ?  Father  !  At 
tend  to  what  I  am  going  to  say.  While  you,  Father,  are  setting  me  on 
your  enemy,  much  in  the  same  manner  as  a  hunter  sets  his  dog  on  the 
game,  while  I  am  in  the  act  of  rushing  on  that  enemy  of  yours,  with  the 
bloody  destructive  weapon  you  gave  me,  I  may  perhaps  happen  to  look 
back,  to  the  place  from  whence  you  started  me,  and  what  shall  I  see  ? 
Perhaps  I -may  see  my  Father  shaking  hands  with  the  Long- Knives; 


249 

yes,  with  those  very  people  he  at  this  moment  calls  his  foes.  Then  I 
may  see  him  laugh  at  my  folly,  for  having  obeyed  his  orders  ;  and  yet, 
I  am  now  risking  my  life  at  his  command.  Father  !  Keep  what  I  have 
said  in  remembrance. 

"  Now  Father  !  Here  is  what  has  been  done  with  the  hatchet  you 
gave  me  (presenting  the  scalp).  I  have  done  with  this  hatchet  what 
you  ordered  me  to  do.  I  have  found  it  sharp.  Nevertheless,  I  did  not 
•lo  all  that  I  might  have  done.  No  !  I  did  not.  My  heart  failed  within 
me.  I  felt  compassion  for  your  enemy.  Innocence  had  no  part  in  your 
quarrels.  Therefore  I  distinguished,  I  spared.  I  took  some  live  flesh, 
which  while  I  was  bringing  to  you,  I  espied  one  of  your  large  canoes, 
and  put  it  there  for  you.  In  a  few  days  you  will  receive  this  flesh,  and 
find  that  the  skin  is  the  same  colour  with  your  own. 

"  Father  !  I  hope  you  will  not  destroy  what  /  have  spared.  You, 
Father,  have  the  means  of  preserving  whq,t  with  me  would  perish  for  want. 
The  warrior  is  poor,  his  cabin  is  empty :  but  your  house,  Father,  is 
ever  full." 

"  Here,"  says  Mr.  Heckewelder,  "  we  see  boldness,  frankness,  dig 
nity  and  humanity,  happily  blended,  and  eloquently  displayed.  The 
component  parts  of  this  discourse  are  put  together,  much  according  to 
the  rules  of  oratory  of  the  schools,  and  which  were  certainly  unknown  to 
the  speaker.  The  peroration  is  short,  truly  pathetic,  even  sublime : 
and  I  wish  I  could  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  a  small  part  of 
the  impression  which  this  speech  made  on  me,  and  on  all  who  heard  it 
delivered." 

The  following  effusion  is  of  a  wholly  different  character.  It  was 
uttered  a  few  years  since,  by  a  Maha  Chieftain,  named  Big-Elk,  over 
the  grave  of  the  Chief  of  the  Teton  tribe,  who  died  at  Portage  des 
Sioux,  on  his  return  from  our  seat  of  government.  He  was  interred 
with  all  the  honours  of  war,  and  this  speech  was  taken  literally  by  the 
Secretary  of  the  American  Commissioners. 

"  Do  not  grieve.  Misfortunes  will  happen  to  the  wisest  and  best 
of  men.  Death  will  come,  and  always  comes  out  of  season.  It  is  the 
command  of  the  Great  Spirit :  all  nations  and  people  must  obey.  What 
is  past,  and  cannot  be  prevented,  should  not  be  grieved  for.  Be  not 
discouraged  or  displeased  then,  that  in  visiting  your  Father  you  have  lost 


250 

your  Chief.  A  misfortune  of  this  kind  may  never  again  befall  you  :  per 
haps  it  would  have  overtaken  you  at  your  own  village.  Five  times  have 
I  visited  this  land,  yet  never  returned  without  sorrow  and  pain.  Woes 
do  not  flourish  particularly  in  our  path.  They  grow  every  where.  What 
a  misfortune  that  I  could  not  have  died  this  day,  instead  of  the  Chief 
who  lies  before  us.  The  trifling  loss  my  nation  would  have  sustained  by 
my  death,  would  have  been  doubly  paid  for  by  the  honours  of  my  burial. 
They  would  have  wiped  off  every  thing  like  regret.  Instead  of  being 
covered  with  a  cloud  of  sorrow,  my  warriors  would  have  felt  the  sun 
shine  of  joy  in  their  hearts.  To  me  it  would  have  been  a  most  glorious 
occurrence.  Hereafter,  when  I  die  at  home,  instead  of  this  noble  grave, 
and  grand  procession,  the  rolling  music,  and  thundering  cannon,  with  a 
banner  waving  over  my  head,  I  shall  be  wrapped  in  a  robe,  and  raised  on 
a  slender  scaffold  to  the  whistling  winds,  soon  to  be  blown  to  the  earth, 
my  flesh  to  be  devoured  by  the  wolves,  and  my  bones  scattered  on  the 
plain  by  wild  beasts." 

On  the  subject  of  the  eloquence  of  our  aborigines,  Sansom, 
in  his  travels  in  Canada,  remarks,  "  when  Father  Charlevoix,  a 
learned  Jesuit,  first  assisted  at  an  Indian  council,  he  could  not  believe 
that  the  Jesuit,  who  acted  as  interpreter,  was  not  imposing  upon  the 
audience  the  effusions  of  his  own  brilliant  imagination.  Yet  Charlevoix 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  Orations  of  Massillon,  and  Bourdaloue ; 
when  those  eminent  orators  displayed  all  the  powers  of  pulpit  eloquence, 
at  the  funerals  of  princes,  upon  the  fertile  subject  of  the  vanity  of  life ; 
but  he  confesses  that  he  had  never  heard  any  thing  so  interesting,  as  the 
extempore  discourses  of  an  Indian  chief.  Even  those  who  have  had  the 
enviable  privilege  of  listening  in  the  British  house  of  Commons,  to 

'  The  popular  harangue, — the  tart  reply, 

The  logic,  and  the  wisdom,  and  the  wit,' 

that  flowed  spontaneous  from  Burke,  and  Sheridan,  and  Fox,  and  Pitt, 
during  the  most  splendid  period  of  British  oratory,  have  freely  ac 
knowledged  that  they  never  heard  any  thing  more  impressive  than  an 
Indian  speech,  accompanied  as  it  usually  is,  with  all  the  graces  of  un 
constrained  delivery." 


251 


JVo.  35.— Line  551. 

"  Ooluita." 

This  incident  is  borrowed  from  Schoolcraft's  Journal.  The  heroine 
was  a  native  of  the  Sioux  tribe,  who  inhabit  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi 
and  Missouri.  They  are  warlike  and  powerful,  and  feared  by  the  neigh 
bouring  nations.  This  tribe  admits  of  several  subdivisions,  among  which 
the  clan  of  Minowa  Kantong  has  obtained  pre-eminence.  One  of 
its  principal  bands  resides  near  the  head  of  Lake  Pepin,  and  to  this  be 
longed  the  father  of  Oolaita.  The  Minowa  Kantongs  are  by  far  the 
most  civilized  of  the  Sioux  tribe.  They  are  skilfull  in  the  construction 
of  canoes,  and  in  the  use  of  fire-arms,  with  which  they  are  well  provided. 
They  are  the  only  ones  among  their  nation,  who  erect  log-huts,  and 
attend  to  the  cultivation  of  vegetables.  The  Sioux  are  considered  as 
the  most  warlike  and  independent  tribe  of  Indians  within  the  territory 
of  the  United  States.  With  them,  every  passion  is  held  in  subservience 
to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  warrior,  and  to  be  "  invincible  in  arms,"  is  the 
summit  of  ambition.  Such  is  the  excellence  of  their  leaders,  and  the 
dauntless  spirit  of  the  people,  that  they  have  hitherto  bid  defiance  to 
every  hostile  attack.  From  their  pronunciation,  habits  and  personal 
appearance,  the  opinion  has  been  entertained  that  they  derive  their  origin 
from  the  Tartars.  The  following  description  of  Lake  Pepin,  where  a 
part  of  this  tribe  have  their  territory,  is  from  the  pen  of  Schoolcraft. 
"  This  beautiful  sheet  of  water  is  an  expansion  of  the  Mississippi  river, 
six  miles  below  the  Sioux  village  of  Talangamane,  and  one  hundred 
below  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony.  It  is  twenty-four  miles  in  length,  with 
a  width  of  from  two  to  four  miles,  and  is  indented  with  several  bays,  and 
prominent  points,  which  serve  to  enhance  the  beauty  of  the  prospect. 
On  the  east  shore  is  a  lofty  range  of  lime-stone  bluffs,  which  are  much 
broken  and  crumbled,  sometimes  run  into  pyramidal  peaks,  and  often 
present  a  character  of  the  utmost  sublimity.  On  the  west  is  a  high  level 
prairie,  covered  with  the  most  luxuriant  growth  of  grass,  yet  nearly  des 
titute  of  forest  trees.  This  lake  is  beautifully  circumscribed  by  a  broad 
beach  of  clean  washed  gravel,  which  often  extends  from  the  foot  of  the 
surrounding  highlands,  three  or  four  hundred  yards  into  the  lake,  forming 
gravelly  points,  upon  which  there  is  a  delightful  walk,  and  scalloping  out 


252 

tb«  margin  of  the  lake,  with  the  most  pleasing  irregularity.  In  walking 
along  these,  the  eye  is  attracted  by  the  various  colours  of  mineral  gems, 
which  are  promiscuously  scattered  among  the  water-worn  debris  of  gra 
nitic,  and  other  rocks  ;  and  the  agate,  carnelian,  and  chalcedony  are  met 
with  at  every  step.  The  size  of  these  gems  is  often  as  large  as  the  egg 
of  the  partridge,  and  their  transparency  and  beauty  of  color  is  only  excel 
led  by  the  choicest  oriental  specimens." 

Note  36.— Line  843. 

"  —  the  peaceful  roofs 
Of  sad  Muskingum." 

"  A  whole  town  of  Christian  Indians,  consisting  of  90  men,  women 
and  children,  were  butchered  in  cold  blood  at  Muskingum,  in  1783, 
notwithstanding  they  had  been  our  tried  friends,  throughout  the  whole 
of  the  revolutionary  war."— Star  in  the  West, 

Note  37. — Line  845. 

"  —  the  deserted  bounds 
Of  the  slain   Creeks." 

"  In  the  autumn  of  1813,  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  under  Gen. 
Coffee,  laid  waste  the  Tallushatches  towns  where  the  Creeks  had  assem 
bled.  Women  and  children  were  among  the  wounded  and  slain,  and  not 
one  warrior  escaped  to  bear  tidings  to  the  remainder  of  the  tribe."  Traits 
of  Indian  Character.  Analectic  Magazine. 

Note  S3.— Line  846. 

"  —from  the  troubled  grave 
Of  Malaanthee." 

In  the  summer  of  1788,  a  party  of  Kentucky  militia  set  out  on  an 
•expedition  against  the  Pickewatown.  They  were  discovered  by  some 
young  hunters,  pursuing  the  chase,  who  returned  and  gave  information 
to  their  aged  chieftain,  Malaanthee.  He  refused  to  believe  that  any 
injury  was  intended  them  by  the  whites,  on  account  of  a  treaty  which  had 
been  executed  the  preceding  spring.  He  therefore  unsuspiciously  advanc 
ed  to  meet  them,  holding  in  one  hand  this  treaty  signed  by  the  American 
Commissioners,  and  in  the  other  the  flag  of  the  United  States,  which  he 
fc&d  received  at  the  same  time.  "  I,  and  my  people,"  said  he,  "  are 


friends  of  the  thirteen  fires.  Faithfully  have  we  observed  the  treaty 
made  with  their  Chiefs  ;  and  on  this  flag,  which  they  gave  me  as  a  mark 
of  friendship,  I  place  my  own  and  my  people's  protection."  A  fatal 
blow  was  their  answer  to  the  hoary  Chief.  The  white  flag,  stained  with 
blood,  was  torn  from  his  lifeless  hand,  and  displayed  as  a  trophy  on  the 
Court-house  at  Lexington,  M  . 

This  unprincipled  deed  is  strongly  contrasted  with  an  instance  of 
magnanimity,  and  inviolable  friendship,  recorded  in  Mr.  Jefferson's  Notes 
on  Virginia.  Col.  Byrd  was  once  sent  to  transact  some  business  with 
the  Cherokee  nation  ;  and  it  happened  that  some  of  our  disorderly  people 
had  just  murdered  one  or  two  of  theirs.  It  was  proposed  in  the  council 
of  the  Cherokees,  that  Col.  Byrd  should  be  put  to  death,  in  revenge  for 
the  loss  of  their  countrymen.  Among  them,  was  a  chief  named 
Silouee,  who  on  some  former  occasion  had  contracted  a  friendly  ac 
quaintance  with  Col.  Byrd.  Every  night  he  came  to  him  in  his  tent, 
telling  him  not  to  be  afraid,  for  they  should  not  take  away  his  life. 
After  many  days  deliberation,  they  however  determined,  contrary  to 
Silouee's  expectation,  that  Col.  Byrd  should  be  put  to  death,  and  some 
warriors  despatched  as  executioners.  Silouee  attended  them,  and  when 
they  entered  the  tent,  threw  himself  between  them  and  their  victim^ 
exclaiming  "  this  man  is  my  friend  !  Before  you  get  at  him,  you  must 
kill  me."  On  this,  the  warriors  returned,  and  the  Council  respected 
fhe  principle  so  much,  as  to  recede  from  their  decision. 

Note  39.— Line  849. 

"  Lo  !    Behold  the  men 

Who  knew,  and  published  the  pure  word  of  peace, 
Yet  kept  it  not." 

"  I  was  astonished,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr.  Heckewelder,  "  to  hear  in 
April  1787,  a  great  Delaware  Chief,  after  recapitulating  some  of  the 
wrongs  sustained  through  the  whites,  conclude  in  these  words.  *  I 
admit  that  there  are  good  white  men  .-  but  they  bear  no  proportion 
to  the  bad.  The  bad  must  be  strongest ;  for  the  bad  rule.  They 
do  what  they  please.  They  enslave  those  who  are  not  of  their 
colour,  though  created  by  the  same  Great  Spirit.  They  would 
make  slaves  of  us,  if  they  could,  but  as  they  have  not  fully  done 


254 

it,  they  kill  us.  There  is  no  faith  in  their  words.  They  are  not  like 
us  Indians,  enemies  only  in  war :  in  peace  friends.  They  will  say  to 
an  Indian,  My  friend  !  My  brother  !  They  will  take  him  by  the  hand, 
and  at  the  same  moment  destroy  him.  And  so  you,  (addressing  him 
self  to  the  Christian  Indians,)  so  you  will  also  be  treated  by  them  before 
long.  Remember  this  day  have  I  warned  you  to  beware  of  such  friends 
as  these.  I  know  the  Long-Knives  :  they  are  not  to  be  trusted.' 
Eleven  months  after  this  speech  was  delivered  by  the  prophetic  Chief, 
96  of  the  same  Christian  Indians,  about  60  of  them  women  and  children, 
were  murdered  in  the  very  place  where  these  words  had  been  spoken, 
by  the  men  he  had  alluded  to,  and  in  the  manner  he  had  described." 
Loskiel.  Part  3,  Chap.  10. 

Note  40.-— Line  868. 

"  The  Chehaw  villages." 

The  destruction  of  the  Chehaw  villages,  was  in  the  spring  of  1818, 
by  Gen.  Jackson,  when  for  the  space  of  three  days  the  country  was 
ravaged,  the  houses  burned,  the  provisions  destroyed,  the  men  slaughter 
ed,  and  the  women  made  captives. 


255 


NOTES 

TO 


Note  1.— Line  33. 

"  The  mighty  Mohawk." 

Ever  since  the  settlement  of  this  country  by  the  Europeans,  the 
Mohawks  have  been  noted  for  their  fierceness,  and  the  terror  they  in- 
spiied  among  the  surrounding  tribes.  Their  original  territory  was  in 
the  vicinity  of  Hudson's  river,  though  they  have  now  removed  to  the 
countries  under  the  British  jurisdiction.  At  the  period  of  Capt.  Smith's 
history,  which  was  published  in  London  in  1627,  they  are  mentioned  as 
"  a  great  nation,  and  very  populous."  Oookin's  "  Historical  Collec 
tions  of  the  Indians  of  New-England,"  bearing  date  in  1692,  contains 
the  following  testimony  to  the  warlike  and  imposing  character  of  this 
tribe.  "  These  Mohawks,  or  Maquas,  are  given  to  rapine  and  spoil,  and 
hostility  with  the  neighbouring  Indians.  In  truth,  they  were,  in  time 
of  war,  so  great  a  terror  to  our  Indians,  even  though  ours  were  far 
more  in  number  than  they,  that  the  appearance  of  four  or  five  Mohawks 
in  the  woods  would  frighten  them  from  their  habitations  and  corn-fields^ 
and  reduce  many  of  them  to  get  together  into  forts,  by  which  means 
they  were  brought  to  straits  and  poverty.  For  they  were  driven  from 
their  planting-fields  through  fear,  and  from  their  fishing  and  hunting 
places  ;  yea,  they  durst  not  go  into  the  woods  to  seek  roots  and  nuts  to 
sustain  life.  To  sum  up  all  concerning  them,  you  may  see  that  they 
are  a  stout  and  cruel  people,  much  addicted  to  bloodshed  and  barbarity  ; 
and  very  prone  to  vex  and  spoil  the  peaceable  Indians." 


Note  2.— Line  33. 

"  —  and  fierce  Delaivare." 

"  The  Delawares,  or  Leni  Lcnape  Indians,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Heekewelder,  "  according  to  the  traditions  handed  down  to  them  by  their 
ancestors,  resided  many  hundred  years  ago,  in  a  very  distant  country,  in 
the  western  part  of  the  American  continent.  They  afterwards  emigrated, 
and  settled  on  the  four  great  rivers,  Delaware,  Hudson,  Susquehannah, 
and  Potomac,  making  the  Delaware,  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of 
Lenapewihittuck  (the  river  or  stream  of  the  Lenape)  the  centre  of  their 
possessions.  The  word  Hittuck,  in  the  language  of  the  Delawares,  means 
a  "rapid  stream."  "  Sipo,  or  Sepu,  is  their  word  for  river."  The 
Delawares,  who  were  formerly  very  fierce  and  powerful,  have  greatly 
decreased  in  numbers,  but  still  retain  their  ancient  courage,  and  are 
considered  an  intelligent  and  respectable  tribe. 

Note  3. — Line  5D. 

"  Thine  eye  beheld 
Its  dawn,  meek  Eliot" 

This  excellent  man,  who  is  usually  styled  the  Apostle  of  the  Indians, 
felt  his  benevolence  excited  by  their  wretchedness,  at  a  time  when  they 
were  generally  considered  objects  of  contempt  and  of  degradation. 
He  was  the  minister  of  Roxbury,  in  Massachusetts,  and  added,  in  the 
year  1646,  to  his  parochial  duties,  the  office  of  spiritual  teacher  of  the 
natives.  In  this  he  persevered  both  with  firmness  and  delight,  not 
withstanding  the  features  of  enthusiasm,  which  his  design  assumed  to  a 
generation,  not  familiar,  like  our  own,  with  the  energies  of  missionary 
exertion.  "  In  this  work,"  says  Gookin,  a  cotemporary  writer,  "  did 
this  good  man  industriously  travel  for  many  years,  without  external 
encouragement  from  man,  or  the  receiving  of  any  salary  or  reward. 
The  truth  is,  that  Mr.  Eliot  engaged  in  this  laborious  work  of  preaching 
to  the  Indians,  on  a  very  pure  and  sincere  account."  In  anwer  to  those 
who  questioned  him  with  expressions  of  surprize  respecting  his  under 
taking,  he  gives  as  reasons,  his  desire  of  making  God  known  to  those 
miserable  heathen,  his  ardent  affection  for  them  and  his  wish  to  conform 
to  the  promise  which  New-England  had  made  the  king  in  return  foi 


257 

her  Charter,  "  to  communicate  the  gospel  to  the  natives,  as  one  princi 
pal  end  of  determining  to  plant  in  their  country."  It  is  remarked  by 
another  historian,  that  after  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  original 
customs  and  traditions  of  the  Indians,  Eliot  traced  such  frequent  resem 
blances  to  the  ancient  Israelites,  that  he  could  not  but  indulge  the  snp- 
position  of  their  affinity,  and  he  adds,  "  the  fatigue  of  his  labour  went 
on  the  more  cheerfully,  or  at  least  the  more  hopefully,  because  of  sucii 
probabilities." 

Note  4.— Line  82. 

"  With  sacred  pen  — " 

Mather,  in  his  Magnalia,  affirms,  that  Eliot  completed  the  whole 
translation  of  the  Bible  into  the  language  of  the  Indians,  entirely  with  one 
pen,  which  he  consecrated  to  that  holy  office.  After  his  acquisition  of 
this  language,  which  was  attended  with  many  difficulties,  he  composed 
a  grammar  of  it,  and  translated  such  a  number  of  treatises  on  Practical 
Piety,  that  a  small  library  was  soon  formed  for  those  who  had  never 
before  seen  their  barbarous  articulations  arrested  or  arranged.  Through 
his  instrumentality  some  of  the  most  promising  native  youths  were 
educated  at  Cambridge,  where  they  became  regular  graduates.  For 
their  assistance  in  their  preparatory  studies,  he  translated  some  scientific 
essays,  and  works  explaining  more  abstruse  points  in  Theology.  But 
what  he  had  most  at  heart  was  an  entire  Indian  bible.  The  New  Tes 
tament,  which  was  printed  in  1661,  with  a  dedication  to  King  Charles 
II,  was  the  first  edition  of  the  Scriptures  ever  published  in  America.  A 
Society  for  aiding  in  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel  among  our  aborig 
ines,  was  about  this  period  incorporated  in  London,  and  some  letters  are 
preserved  from  the  venerable  Eliot,  to  the  Hon.  Robert  Boyle,  its 
Governor,  who  had  furnished  some  assistance  in  the  expense  of  pub 
lishing  the  Old  Testament.  In  one  of  them  the  faithful  and  meek 
Apostle,  thus  expresses  his  gratitude  and  his  Christian  perseverance. 
"  Your  charity  hath  greatly  revived  and  refreshed  us.  The  great  work 
that  I  now  travail  about  is  the  printing  of  the  Old  Testament,  that  they 
may  have  the  whole  Bible.  They  are  importunately  desirous  of  it.  I 
desire  to  see  it  done  before  I  die,  and  I  am  already  so  deep  in  years, 
*hat  I  cannot  expect  to  live  long.  Besides,  we  have  but  one  man,  the 


258 

Indian  printer,  who  is  able  to  compare  the  sheets,  and  correct  the  press, 
with  understanding.  As  soon  as  I  received  the  sum  of  near  £  40  for 
the  bible  work,  I  presently  set  it  on  foot,  and  am  now  in  Leviticus.  I 
have  added  some  part  of  my  salary,  to  keep  up  the  work,  and  many  more 
things  I  might  mention,  as  reasons  of  my  urgency  in  this  matter." 

Note  5.—  Line  87. 

"  The  deep-drawn  sigh 
Of  thy  departing  soul." 

The  venerable  Eliot  attained  a  great  age,  and  his  exertions  and  ex 
ample  were  to  the  last  consistent  with  ardent  piety,  and  disinterested 
benevolence.  Like  Polycarp,  he  might  have  said,  "  eighty  and  six  years 
have  I  served  my  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  As  his  soul  gently  departed,  his 
expiring  lips  uttered  the  request,  "  Lord  !  revive  and  prosper  thy  gospel 
among  the  Indians,  and  grant  it  to  live  when  I  am  dead."  How  would 
his  pious  spirit  have  rejoiced,  could  it  have  looked  through  the  mists  of 
time,  and  traced  the  accomplishment  of  this  fervent  desire.  Much  had 
been  performed  by  him,  for  the  spiritual  instruction  of  the  natives,  the 
correction  of  their  vices  ;  the  establishment  of  family-prayer,  and  the 
foundation  of  regular  societies  for  religious  worship.  The  first  Church 
ever  gathered  among  the  wanderers  of  the  forest,  was  at  Natick,  in 
1651.  Connected  with  this,  was  a  humble  attempt,  at  civil  govern 
ment  ;  for  they  were  permitted  to  hold  jurisdiction  over  slight  offences. 
Mr.  Eliot  assisted  them  in  appointing  rulers  over  hundreds,  fifties  and 
fens,  according  to  the  model  in  the  18th  of  Exodus,  which  he  explained 
to  his  approving  auditors.  He  gave  them  also  the  following  form, 
which  may  be  considered  as  the  first  imitation  of  the  ancient  Theocracy 
of  Israel. 

"  We  are  the  sons  of  Adam,  and  with  our  forefathers  have  a  long 
iime  been  lost  in  our  sins.  But  now  the  mercy  of  God  beginneth  to 
find  us  out.  Therefore,  the  grace  of  Christ  helping  us,  we  do  give 
ourselves  and  our  children  unto  God  to  be  his  people.  He  shall  rule 
all  our  affairs.  The  Lord  is  our  Judge,  the  Lord  is  our  Lawgiver,  the 
Lord  is  our  King,  he  will  save  us.  The  wisdom  which  God  hath  taught 
us  in  his  book  shall  guide  us.  Oh  !  Jehovah,  teach  us  wisdom.  Send 
thy  epirit  into  our  hearts.  Take  us  to  be  thy  people,  and  let  us  take 
'thee  to  be  our  God." 


259 


Mote  6.— -Line  92. 

"  The  Mai/hews  rose." 

The  name  of  Mayhew,  is  still  embalmed  with  gratitude,  by  the 
remnant  of  aboriginal  population  on  the  island  of  Martha's  Vineyard, 
The  ministry  of  these  benefactors  of  wretchedness  commenced  about 
the  year  1648,  in  the  person  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Mayhew,  son  to  the 
governor  of  that  island.  Both  father  and  son  had  acquired  the  language 
of  the  Indians,  and  upon  the  death  of  the  latter  in  the  ninth  year  of  his 
missionary  labours,  the  venerable  parent  assumed  the  falling  mantle  of 
the  younger  prophet,  and  until  the  advanced  age  of  93,  continued  his 
spiritual  instructions,  and  benevolent  deeds  to  a  despised  race.  Such 
peculiar  success  attended  their  exertions,  that  150O  natives  were  num 
bered  as  the  fruits  of  their  holy  toil.  Others  of  their  descendants  in 
herited  the  same  disinterested  and  pious  spirit,  and  condescended  to  seek 
in  the  wilderness  those  lost  sheep  who  had  never  heard  the  call  of  the 
Shepherd,  or  the  promise  of  a  fold. 

Note  7.— Line  98. 

"  Dying  Mitark." 

One  of  the  chief  Sachems,  or  princes  of  Martha's  Vineyard,  by  the 
name  of  Mitdrk,  who  had  embraced  Christianity,  died  in  the  beginning  of 
the  year  168 3.  The  day  before  his  decease,  Mr.  John  Mayhew,  who 
attended  him,  inquired  concerning  his  hope,  and  the  dying  chief  answer 
ed,  "  I  have  hope  in  God,  that  when  my  soul  departeth  out  of  this  body, 
he  will  send  his  angels  to  conduct  it  to  himself,  and  to  dwell  with  Jesus 
Christ."  Then  with  great  earnestness  he  exclaimed, — "  Where  that 
everlasting  glory  is  !  As  for  my  reasons  ;  I  have  had  many  wrongs  of 
enemies,  of  whom  I  have  sought  no  revenge,  neither  retained  evil  in 
thought,  word,  or  deed.  Therefore  expect  I  the  same  from  God.  But 
I  proceed  no  further,  for  He  is  merciful.  It  is  now  seven  nights  since 
I  was  taken  sick,  and  not  yet  have  I  asked  of  God  to  live  longer  in  this 
world.  Here  are  some  benefits  to  be  enjoyed,  also  many  troubles  to  be 
endured  :  yet  with  respect  to  the  hope  I  have  in  God,  am  I  willing  to 
die.  Here  am  I  in  pain,  there  I  shall  be  freed  from  all  pain,  and  enjoy 
the  rest  that  never  endeth."  Pointing  to  his  three  daughters,  he  said 


260 

"and  yovfmy  daughters,  if  you  lose  your  father,  mourn  not  for  him.  Rats- 
er  mourn  for  yourselves,  and  for  your  sins.  Mourn  not  for  me,  though 
you  are  unwilling  to  spare  me,  and  I  might  be  helpful  to  you  by  living 
longer  in  this  world,  yet  to  die,  is  far  better  for  me."— Magnolia.  Christi 
Americani.  Vol.  ii. 

Note  8.— Line  108. 

"  —  the  fount  of  penitence 
O'er  rugged  features  pour' d  a  tearful  tide." 

It  has  been  urged  among  the  objections  against  sending  the  gospel 
to  our  aborigines,  that  their  prejudices  and  hardness  of  heart  must 
interpose  insuperable  obstacles  to  its  progress.  Yet  the  penitence  and 
humility  with  which  they  received  the  religious  instructions  of  their 
earlier  teachers  were  remakable.  It  was  observed  of  the  venerable 
Eliot,  that  his  heart  was  affected,  "  to  see  what  floods  of  tears  fell  from 
the  eyes  of  those  degenerate  savages,  yea,  from  the  worst  of  them  all, 
at  the  first  addresses  which  he  made  to  them."  A  cotemporary  divine, 
who  had  witnessed  their  mode  of  worship,  states,  "  we  saw  and  heard  them 
perform  their  duties  with  such  grave  and  sober  countenances,  such 
comely  reverence  in  their  gesture,  and  whole  carriage,  and  with  such 
plenty  of  tears  trickling  down  the  cheeks  of  many  of  them,  as  did  argue 
that  they  felt  the  holy  fear  of  God  :  and  it  much  affected  our  hearts." 

Note  9.— Line  118. 

"  His  majestic  form 

Veil'd  in  dim  distance,  drooping  seems  to  pass 
*Neatk  the  devouring  wave." 

The  Rev.  Thomas  Mayhew,  Jun.  the  first  of  that  benevolent  family 
who  commenced  preaching  to  the  natives,  undertook  a  voyage  to  Eng 
land,  in  1647,  on  business  connected  with  his  mission.  But  no  intelli 
gence  of  the  vessel  in  which  he  embarked,  was  ever  received.  This 
affliction  was  deeply  deplored  by  his  family,  by  the  church,  and  by  the 
grateful  Indians  whose  affections  he  had  so  strongly  engaged,  that  for 
many  years  his  name  was  seldom  mentioned  even  by  the  younger  and 
more  thoughtless  of  them  without  tears.  May  we  not  apply  to  this 
excellent  and  lamented  man,  those  beautiful  lines  in  Milton's  Lycidas  ? 


261 

"  Thus  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  Ocean-bed  { 

But  then  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 

And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 

Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  eastern  sky. 

Thus  Lycidas  sank  low,  but  mounted  high 

Through  the  dear  might  of  Him  who  walk'd  the  waves/' 

Note  10.—Lz/ie  129. 

"  Brainerd  woke  in  youth  • 

The  labours  of  this  distinguished  missionary  to  the  aborigines  of  our 
country,  the  hardships,  the  self-devotion,  the  depths  of  humility,  the 
high  aspirations  of  piety,  which  his  short  period  of  twenty  nine  years 
comprised,  are  familiar  to  every  mind  versed  in  the  history  of  man's 
benevolence  to  man.  His  creed  was  founded  on  what  the  venerable 
Dr.  Milner  styles  "  the  primitive  tastes  of  Christianity,  to  believe,  to 
suffer,  and  to  love."  Among  the  trophies  of  his  victory,  by  which 
having  past  the  gates  of  death,  he  "yet  speaketh,"  may  we  not  number 
the  event,  that  from  the  perusal  of  his  life,  sprang  that  emulation  which 
"  baptized  by  prayer,"  dictated  the  choice,  and  sublimated  the  career  of 
Henry  Martyn  ?  The  closing  sentences  of  Sargent,  his  animated  biog 
rapher,  will  express  the  merits  of  that  distinguished  man,  whose  memory 
is  embalmed  in  the  churches.  "  Martyn  followed  the  steps  of  Zeigen- 
balg  in  the  old  world,  and  of  Brainerd  in  the  new  ;  and  while  he  walks 
with  them  in  white,  for  he  is  worthy,  he  speaks,  by  his  example,  to  us 
who  are  still  in  our  warfare  and  pilgrimage  on  earth.  For  surely  as 
long  as  England  shall  be  celebrated  for  that  pure  and  apostolical  Church, 
of  which  he  was  so  great  an  ornament ;  as  long  as  India  shall  prize 
that  which  is  more  precious  to  her  than  all  her  gems  and  gold,  the  name 
of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  as  a  translator  of  the  Scriptures  and  of 
the  Liturgy,  will  not  wholly  be  forgotten  :  and  while  some  shall  delight 
to  gaze  upon  the  splendid  sepulchre  of  Xavier,  and  others  choose  rather 
to  ponder  over  the  granite  stone  which  covers  all  that  is  mortal  of 
Swartz,  there  will  not  be  wanting  those  who  will  think  of  the  humble 
and  unfrequented  grave  of  Henry  Martyn,  and  be  led  to  imitate  those 
works  of  mercy  which  have  followed  him  into  the  world  of  light  and  love/- 


262 
Note  II.— Line  149. 

"  Heckewelder  toil'd, 
Girt  with  his  Master's  patience." 

The  work  entitled  "  An  account  of  the  history,  manners  and  customs 
of  the  Indian  Nations,  who  once  inhabited  Pennsylvania,  and  the  neigh 
bouring  states,"  by  the  Rev.  John  Heckewelder  of  Bethlehem,  suffi 
ciently  proves  the  compassionate  interest  which  had  prompted  the  exer 
tions,  and  directed  the  pen  of  the  Author.  "  In  what  I  have  written," 
he  affirms,  "  concerning  the  character,  customs,  manners  and  usages  of 
this  people,  I  cannot  have  been  deceived,  since  it  is  the  result  of  personal- 
knowledge,  what  I  have  myself  seen,  heard,  and  witnessed  while  residing 
among  and  near  them,  for  more  than  thirty  years."  Of  the  Lenni 
Lcnapi,  or  Delaware  tribe,  he  has  collected  a  great  number  of  interesting 
facts.  These  were  the  natives  who  first  received  the  European  settlers 
upon  the  island  of  New  York,  welcoming  their  arrival  with  an  alacrity 
and  reverence,  which  the  gift  of  prescience  would  have  changed  into 
aversion  and  terror.  Mr.  Heckewelder,  after  describing  the  extent  of 
territory  and  degree  of  prosperity  which  they  then  enjoyed,  says,  "  On 
a  sudden  they  are  checked  in  their  career,  by  a  phenomenon  they  had 
till  then  never  beheld ;  immense  canoes  arriving  at  their  shores,  filled 
xvith  people  of  a  different  colour,  language,  dress  and  manners,  from 
themselves.  In  their  astonishment  they  call  out  to  one  another,  '  Behold ! 
the  Gods  are  come  to  visit  us !'  They  at  first  considered  these  wonderful 
beings,  as  messengers  of  peace,  sent  from  the  abode  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
and  therefore  employed  their  time  in  preparing  and  making  sacrifices  to 
that  Great  Being,  who  had  so  highly  honoured  them.  Lost  in  amaze- 
ment,  fond  of  the  enjoyment  of  this  novel  spectacle,  and  anxious  to  know 
the  result,  they  were  unmindful  of  those  matters  which  hitherto  had  taken 
up  their  minds,  and  formed  the  object  of  their  pursuits ;  they  thought 
of  nothing  else  but  the  wonders  which  now  struck  their  eyes,  and  were 
Constantly  employed  in  endeavouring  to  divine  this  great  mystery.  Such 
is  the  manner  in  which  they  relate  that  event :  the  strong  impression  of 
which  is  not  yet  obliterated  from  their  minds." 


263 


Note  12.— Line  184. 


Whither  goest  thou  ? 


Son  of  the  Ocean  ft 


:  •'    I  HI 


"  The  Indians  at  first  imagined  that  the  white  men  •riginally  sprang 
from  the  sea,  and  invaded  their  country,  because  they  had  none  of  their 
own.  They  sometimes  called  them  in  their  songs,  the  "  white  foam 
of  the  Ocean,"  and  this  name  is  still  applied  contemptuously  by  the 
aborigines  of  the  North- West." — Prophet  of  Alleghan,y. 

Note  1 3.— Line  244. 

"  On  that  beloved  city,  which  their  step 

Dar'd  not  abroach." 

"  The  remnant  of  the  Jewish  nation  having  again  rebelled,  Adrian 
completed  the  destruction  of  what  Titus  had  left  standing  in  ancient 
Jerusalem.  On  the  ruins  of  the  city  of  David,  he  erected  another  town, 
to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  ^Elia  Capitolinus  ;  he  forbade  the  Jews 
to  enter  it  upon  pain  of  death,  and  caused  the  figure  of  a  hog,  in 
sculpture,  to  be  placed  upon  the  gate  leading  to  Bethlehem.  St. 
Gregory  Nazianzen  nevertheless  relates,  that  the  Jews  were  permitted 
to  enter  JE\\a  once  a  year  to  give  vent  to  their  sorrows ;  and  St.  Jerome 
adds  that  they  were  forced  to  purchase  at  an  exorbitant  price  the  right 
of  shedding  tears  over  the  ashes  of  their  country.  "—Chateaubriand's 
Travels,  in  Greece,  Palestine,  Egyjit  and  Barbary. 

Note  14.— Line  270. 

"  Church  nor  council-house 
Might  hold  the  multitude." 

The  assembly  who  were  to  hear  this  interesting  question  decided, 
met  in  a  beautiful  vale,  about  eight  miles  to  the  westward  of  the  Seneca 
Lake,  on  the  12th  of  June  1802.  The  tribe  of  Senecas,  or  Senekas, 
originally  belonged  to  that  powerful  confederation  of  Mohawks,  Oneidas, 
Onondagas,  and  Cayugas,  which  existed  at  the  first  arrival  of  the 
Europeans.  They  now  inhabit  the  territory  on  the  banks  of  the  Gennesee 
river  ;  and  the  eastern  shores  of  Lake  Erie  :  and  among  their  peculiar 


264 

customs  which  point  to  ancient  Israel,  is  that  of  annually  sacrificing  u 
white  dog,  as  if  in  rude  imitation  of  the  paschal  lamb.  The  celebrated 
orator,  Red  Jacket,  belongs  to  them  ;  but  his  name  in  their  language 
is  far  more  appropriate  than  this  vulgar  appellation,  being  Tsckuycaathaw, 
or  "  the  Man  who  keeps  you  awake." 


265 


NOTES 


TO 


Note  I.— Line  23. 

"  Beneath  their  chapel's  dedicated  dome 
Oneida's  natives  pay  their  vows  to  God." 

The  church  here  alluded  to,  is  one  of  the  Episcopal  order,  established 
in  the  Oneida  tribe,  where  Mr.  Eleazar  Williams  officiates  as  Catechist 
and  Lay  Reader.  Interesting  accounts  of  its  prosperity,  particularly  of  the 
devotion  of  the  worshippers  in  their  public  service,  the  regularity  of  their 
responses,  and  the  melody  of  their  singing,  are  related  by  those  who 
have  visited  them.  This  church  belongs  to  the  Diocess  of  the  Right 
Rev.  Bishop  Hobart,  and  the  following  notice  of  its  consecration  is 
copied  from  the  Christian  Journal  of  October  1819. 

"  On  Tuesday  last,  the  Chapel  erected  for  the  Oneida  Indians,  at 
Oneida  Castle,  was  consecrated  by  the  Bishop,  receiving  the  name  of 
St.  Peter's  church.  Fifty-six  Indians  who  had  previously  been  prepared 
for  that  purpose  by  their  Instructer,  Mr.  E.  Williams,  received  confir 
mation,  aud  at  the  visit  of  Bishop  Hobart  last  year,  ninety-four  were 
confirmed.  Too  much  praise  cannot  be  bestowed  upon  the  exertions 
and  pious  zeal  of  Mr.  Williams,  in  his  successful  efforts  to  bring  into 
the  Christian  Church  these  infidel  brethren  ;  for  when  he  arrived  among 
them,  two  or  three  years  ago,  more  than  half  of  the  Onejdas  were  of  that 


266 

character."  Missionaries  have  been  repeatedly  employed  among  this 
tribe,  and  the  late  Rev.  Mr.  Kirkland,  (father  of  the  President  of 
Harvard  University,  Cambridge,)  who  long  discharged  the  duties  of  that 
vocation  with  zeal  and  ability,  thus  speaks  of  their  religious  belief, 
and  that  of  the  other  nations  with  whom  they  where  confederated. 
"  The  region  of  pure  spirits,  the  Five  Nations  call  Eskanane.  Accord 
ing  to  their  tradition  there  is  a  gloomy  fathomless  gulph,  near  the 
borders  of  the  delightful  mansions  of  Eskanane,  over  which  all  good  and 
brave  spirits  pass  with  safety,  under  the  conduct  of  a  faithful  and  skilfull 
guide  appointed  for  the  purpose,  but  when  those  of  other  characters 
approach  the  gulph,  the  conductor  who  possesses  a  most  penetrating 
eye,  instantly  discovers  their  spiritual  features,  and  denies  them  his  aid, 
assigning  his  reasons.  They  will  however  attempt  to  cross  upon  a  small 
pole,  which  before  they  reach  the  middle  trembles  and  shakes,  till  pre 
sently  down  they  fall,  with  horrid  shrieks.  In  this  dreary  gulph  they 
suppose  resides  a  great  dog  or  dragon,  perpetually  restless  and  spiteful. 
Sometimes  the  guilty  inhabitants  of  these  miserable  regions  approach 
so  near  the  happy  fields  of  Eskanane,  as  to  hear  the  songs  and  dances 
of  their  former  companions  j  but  this  only  serves  to  increase  their  tor 
ments,  as  they  can  discern  no  light,  or  discover  any  passage  by  which 
they  can  gain  access  to  them." 

The  Tuscaroras  have  affinity  with  the  Oneidas,  and  resemble  them 
in  most  of  their  traditions  and  customs.  Missionaries  have  been  oc 
casionally  sent  to  them,  and  the  exercises  of  a  Sabbath,  as  conducted  in 
the  church  under  the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Crane,  is  thus  de 
scribed  by  a  literary  and  liberal  minded  English  gentleman,  who  has 
travelled  extensively  in  the  United  States.  "  On  my  visit  to  the  cata 
ract  of  Niagara,  in  1821,  I  passed  with  great  pleasure  a  Sunday,  with 
the  Tuscaroras  in  the  vicinity.  With  their  devotion  during  the  services 
I  was  particularly  impressed.  Some  of  them  who  approached  the  church 
during  a  heavy  rain,  observing  it  to  be  the  time  of  prayer,  remained 
without,  unsheltered,  till  prayers  were  finished.  Their  minister  by  the 
aid  of  an  interpreter,  gave  them  a  sermon  of  such  impressive  simplicity, 
that  the  whole  of  it  remained  upon  my  memory.  But  when  the  tunes 
of  Old  Hundred  and  Plymouth  burst  forth  in  strains  of  perfect  melody, 
I  could  scarcely  restrain  my  feelings.  Afterwards,  a  grey-headed  chief, 


267 

leaning  upon  his  staff,  addressed  our  Father  in  Heaven.  In  his  suppli-- 
cation  he  asked  that  the  stranger  who  had  come  from  over  the  great 
waters,  might  be  preserved  on  his  return  to  his  home,  and  be  blessed 
for  feeling  an  interest  in  poor  Indians.  The  deportment  of  these  sons 
of  the  forest,  and  the  influence  of  the  whole  scene,  was  so  forcibly 
affecting,  that  I  found  it  impossible  to  refrain  from  tears." 

.Vote  2.— Line  80. 

"  Wttdomft  hand 

ffcweth  out  pillars,  when  sfie  rears  the  house 
Whose  arch  is  for  the  shies." 

"  Wisdom  hath  builded  her  house,  she  hath  hewn  out  her  seven 
pillars.  "—Proverbs  ix,  1.  This  inspired  metaphor  of  the  royal  teacher, 
may  among  other  sources  of  instruction,  permit  an  application  to  our 
present  subject.  If  in  the  most  sublime  truths  of  Christianity,  may  be 
traced  an  adaptation  to  our  grosser  frame,  a  recognition  at  once  of  our 
infirmities,  and  our  needs  ;  does  it  not  become  us  in  our  erection  of  a 
spiritual  temple  among  the  heathen,  to  imitate  the  "  wisdom  that  is  from 
above,"  and  to  suffer  its  foundation  to  rest  upon  the  earth,  since  its 
.service  is  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  are  "  from  the  earth,  earthy?" 
Perhaps  the  failure  of  most  of  our  early  attempts  to  convert  the  aborig 
ines  may  be  traced  to  inattention  in  connecting  the  advantages  of  civili 
zation  with  the  blessings  of  Christianity.  Their  success  in  many  instan 
ces  was  conspicuous,  but  the  adjunct  was  wanting,  which  could  impress 
on  the  character  of  a  roving  people,  the  feature  of  permanence.  Indi 
viduals  were  made  solemn,  purified,  and,  we  trust,  gathered  to  the  family 
of  the  redeemed  ;  but  the  multitude  required  from  Christianity,  a  visible 
pledge  that  she  was  divine.  Like  the  Jews,  they  "  sought  after  a  sign, 
yet  not  even  the  sign  of  the  prophet  Jonas"  was  given  them,  who  after 
immersion  in  the  deep  for  a  time,  was  raised  to  liberty  and  light.  The 
arts  of  civilized  society,  would  have  convinced  their  reasoning  powers 
that  the  tree  which  bore  goo  1  fruits  was  good ;  and  to  the  wretched 
numbers  who  have  perished  for  want  of  sustenance  would  have  been  as 
"life  from  the  dead." 

"  We  are  hungry  and  naked,"  say  the  Chippeways  in  their  speech  to 
Governor  Cass,  "  we  are  thirsty  and  needy.  We  hope  you  wijl  relieve 


268 

us.  The  President  of  the  United  States  is  like  a  lofty  pine  upon  the 
mountain's  top.  You  are  also  a  great  man.  The  Americans  are 
a  great  people.  Can  it  be  possible  they  will  allow  us  to  suffer?" 
Schoolcraft,  who  traces  his  personal  observations  among  our  natives, 
with  the  pen  of  a  master,  remarks,  that  "  the  savage  mind,  habituated 
to  sloth,  is  not  easily  roused  into  a  state  of  moral  activity,  nor  at 
once  capable  of  embracing  and  understanding  the  sublime  truths  and 
doctrines  of  the  evangelical  law.  It  is  necessary  that  letters,  arts, 
and  religion,  should  go  hand  in  handv"  The  younger  President 
Edwards,  whose  knowledge  of  the  customs  and  language  of  our  aborigi 
nes,  particularly  of  the  Stockbridge  tribe,  is  well  known  to  have  been 
extensive,  points  out  as  the  only  method  of  securing  their  loyalty  to 
government,  "  the  prosecution  of  the  design  of  thoroughly  instructing 
them  in  the  true  religion,  and  of  educating  their  children  to  useful 
knowledge."  The  process  of  turning  them  from  hunting  and  fishing 
to  husbandry,  must  of  necessity  be  slow ;  yet  it  seems  that  it  would  not 
be  impossible  to  lead  from  the  beauty  and  comforts  of  harvest,  up  to 
the  Giver  of  Good,  those  souls  which  had  been  accustomed  even  through 
darkness  and  ignorance,  to  "  see  God  in  clouds,  or  hear  him  in  the 
\vi:id."  Yet  those  roving  minds  require  to  be  arrested  by  the  certainty 
of  present  good,  before  they  will  renounce  vicious  gratifications  for  the 
hope  of  futurity.  A  religion  which  recommends  itself  by  teaching  them 
to  guard  against  the  famine,  the  storm,  and  the  "  pestilence  walking  in 
darkness,"  furnishes  their  conviction  with  a  strong  proof,  that  it  is  able 
to  provide  a  shelter  in  the  day  of  wrath,  and  a  refuge  when  all  earthly 
habitations  are  dissolved.  To  vanquish  their  doubts  of  the  excellency 
of  doctrines,  it  is  necessary  to  ameliorate  their  condition,  and  to  remove 
their  ignorance.  To  the  force  of  the  first  argument,  the  child,  and  the 
Chieftain  of  hoary  hairs,  are  alike  accessible :  the  last,  must  appeal 
chiefly  to  the  rising  generation  whose  intellect,  unshackled  by  long 
habit,  is  docile  to  the  voice  of  instruction.  Wisely,  therefore,  have  our 
recent  missionaries  applied  themselves  to  the  education  of  children  : 
and  wisely  are  they  permitting  their  system  to  embrace  agriculture,  with 
the  domestic  and  mechanic  arts.  Thus,  they  open  a  new  era  in  the 
jiistory  of  that  divine  compassion,  which  during  the  lapse  of  two  centu 
ries,  has  often  awakened  to  toil  for  our  aborigines,  yet  as  often  wept 


269 

*hat  her  toil  has  been  in  vain.  Thus  arc  they  taking  the  most  effectual 
method  to  arrest  the  fugitives  in  their  rapid  progress  to  the  grave,  by 
causing  not  only  the  dark  forest  to  resound  with  the  praises  of  Jehovah, 
but  also  the  "wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  to  blossom  as  the  rose." 

Note  3. — Line  106. 

"  —  they  with  grateful  joy  were  haiCd 
By  the  sad  stranger's  moaning  on  the  miti*" 

If  any  claim  to  religious  instruction  can  be  founded  on  strong  solici 
tude  to  receive  it,  the  aborigines  upon  our  borders  have  instituted  that 
claim,  and  confirmed  it  by  ardent  gratitude  for  that  measure  of  the  gift 
which  has  been  imparted.  In  this  respect  they  exhibit  a  strong  contrast 
to  most  of  the  Asiatic  heathen,  to  whom  the  gospel  has  been  sent.  The 
reluctance  of  the  Hindoos  to  listen  to,  or  submit  their  children  to  a 
system  which  would  sap  the  foundation  of  preconceived  idolatry,  is  feel 
ingly  described  by  Henry  Marty n.  In  the  course  of  only  a  few  pages, 
the  following  passages  occur,  and  others  of  the  same  nature  might  easily 
be  selected.  "  Wherever  I  walked,  the  women  fled  at  the  sight  of  me. 
The  children  ran  away  in  great  terror.  I  left  books  with  some  of  the 
people,  and  went  away,  amid  the  sneers  and  laughter  of  the  common 
soldiers.  A  party  of  boatmen  I  talked  with,  and  begged  them  to  take 
a  tract,  but  could  not  prevail.  A  Mussulman  who  had  received  one  of 
the  Hindostanee  tracts,  and  found  what  it  was,  was  greatly  alarmed  and 
returned  it.  I  am  much  discouraged  at  the  rebuffs  and  suspicions  I 
meet  with.  As  I  was  entering  a  boat,  I  happened  to  touch,  with  my 
stick,  a  brass  pot  of  one  of  the  Hindoos,  in  which  rice  was  boiling.  So 
defiled  are  we  in  their  sight,  that  the  pollution  past  from  my  hand, 
through  the  stick  and  brass  to  the  food.  He  rose  and  threw  it  all 
away.  Walked  in  the  evening  to  a  poor  village,  where  I  only  produced 
terror."  • 

If  the  zeal  which  "  counts  all  losses  light,"  would  reproach  itself  as 
weak  to  be  moved  by  these  afflictions,  or  selfish  to  be  influenced  by  them 
in  the  choice  of  a  theatre  of  action  ;  yet  minds  of  a  more  calculating  class, 
who  feel  that  life  is  short ;  and  those  who  love  the  luxury  of  doing  good, 
would  be  inclined  to  choose  that  station,  where  probabilities  are  greatest  of 
performing  the  most  in  a  limited  time,  Still  the  missionary  in  his  most 


270 

eligible  situation  has  enough  of  trial,  enough  of  privation,  to  remind 
him  that  he  is  a  herald  of  that  Prince,  whose  "kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world."  The  tribes  upon  our  borders  to  whom  religious  teachers  hare 
been  sent,  so  far  from  testifying  like  the  oriental  heathen,  strong  reluc 
tance  or  aversion,  have  entrusted  their  children  to  them  with  tears  of 
gratitude,  and  in  many  instances  aided  in  the  expenses  incidental  to  their 
education.  The  Cherokees  who  have  probably  shared  the  most  largely 
in  these  benefits,  have  made  the  greatest  progress  in  civilization.  The 
culture  of  the  earth  has  become  an  object  of  increased  attention.  Many  of 
their  females  understand  the  use  of  the  distaff  and  loom,  and  the  agency 
of  the  needle  in  promoting  domestic  comfort.  An  intelligent  traveller  in 
that  region,  about  four  years  since,  writes  "  the  Cherokee  women  almost 
universally  dress  after  the  manner  of  the  whites,  in  gowns  manufactured 
by  themselves,  from  cotton  which  they  have  raised  on  their  own  little 
plantations.  Rapidly  are  they  coming  into  habits  of  industry.  In  the 
Choctaw  nation,  2000  spinning  wheels,  and  several  hundred  looms  have 
been  made  and  distributed." 

The  Cherokee  council  has  recently  promised  a  set  of  tools  to  those 
young  men  who  would  become  acquainted  with  some  mechanic  art ;  and 
lias  also  divided  the  territory  of  the  tribe  into  districts,  and  appointed 
judges  in  each  for  the  regular  distribution  of  justice.  The  children,  who 
have  become  members  of  the  Schools,  make  respectable,  and  often  rapid 
progress  in  the  branches  assigned  them.  The  circumstance  of  imparting 
to  them  our  language,  instead  of  being  forced  to  acquire  theirs,  furnishes 
our  missionaries  with  an  important  facility  which  is  denied  to  their  east 
ern  brethren.  Time  and  mental  labour  are  thus  rescued  for  other  pur 
poses  ;  and  the  pupils  after  obtaining  the  English  tongue,  which  they 
have  hitherto  done  with  great  ease,  enjoy  in  our  books  the  advantage  of 
an  unbounded  store  of  knowledge.  The  delay  occasioned  by  acquiring 
the  Hindostanee  or  Sanscrit  sufficiently  w^ll  to  converse  with  and  preach 
to  the  natives,  assumes  the  aspect  of  an  obstacle,  which  severity  of  ap 
plication  alone  can  conquer.  A  Missionary,  eminently  distinguished 
by  his  translations  in  the  Asiatic  dialects,  remarks  "  the  idiom,  and  just 
collocation  of  the  words  in  Hindostanee  are  very  difficult.  Every 
few  miles,  the  language  changes,  so  that  a  book  in  the  dialect  of  one 
district  would  be  unintelligible  in  another." 


271 

Among  the  facilities  afforded  for  the  instruction  of  our  western 
heathen,  and  which  seem  almost  to  amount  to  a  preparation  for  truth, 
may  be  numbered  the  circumstance,  that  their  minds  are  not  fettered  by 
an  idolatry  like  that  of  Juggernaut,  at  once  abject,  imposing,  and  bar 
barous.  Their  belief  in  the  Great  Spirit,  and  the  "  land  of  souls,"  is 
not  so  adverse  to  the  "  simplicity  which  is  in  Christ,"  as  the  mysteries 
of  Vishnoo,  and  of  Brumma.  Roger  Williams  in  his  work,  entitled, 
"  A  Key  to  the  Language  of  the  Indians  of  New-England,"  which 
bears  date  in  1643,  and  is  now  very  scarce,  has  the  following  passage. 
"  He  who  questions  whether  God  made  the  world,  the  Indians  will 
teach  him.  I  must  acknowledge  that  I  have  in  my  conversations  with 
them,  received  many  confirmations  of  those  two  great  truths,  that  God  is, 
and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  who  diligently  seek  him.  If  they 
receive  any  good  in  hunting,  fishing,  or  harvest,  they  acknowledge  God 
in  it.  Yea,  if  they  meet  with  but  an  ordinary  accident,  such  as  a  fall, 
&c.  they  say  God  was  angry,  and  permitted  it." 

This  habitual  sense  of  the  agency  of  a  Divine  Being  in  all  the  affairs 
of  life,  might  serve  both  as  an  example  and  reproof  to  some  inhabitants 
of  a  Christian  land  ;  and  seems  to  prove  that  a  path  is  already  broken  up, 
for  the  footseps  of  knowledge  and  piety.  The  latter  assertion  is  however 
applied  principally  to  those  upon  our  frontiers,  who  suffer  from  poverty 
and  degradation.  The  natives,  whose  territory  is  farther  to  the  west, 
maintain  comparative  independence  ;  and  finding  their  own  mode  of  life 
sufficient  for  their  wants,  are  less  disposed  to  receive  a  better.  But 
"  our  brother  within  our  gates,"  hath  not  rejected  our  benevolence,  hath 
not  put  from  him  the  word  of  life."  Do  we  "adjudge  him  unworthy 
of  eternal  life,  that  we  turn  from  him  to  other  Gentiles  ?" — that  we 
prefer  invading  the  jurisdiction  of  foreign  governments,  to  discharging 
the  debts  which  our  own  has  incurred  ?  For  the  Indian  hath  a  claim 
upon  our  justice,  which  sophistry  cannot  cancel.  It  is  vain  to  say  that 
their  land  was  obtained  by  purchase.  What  a  purchase  !  When  whole 
townships  were  obtained  for  a  single  intoxicating  draught ;  and  prov 
inces,  like  the  vineyard  of  Naboth,  wrested  without  payment,  save  the 
life  of  the  owner.  In  many  of  the  original  purchases  of  land  from  the 
Indians,  payment  was  rendered  with  the  sword,  silencing  the  lip  that 
complained  of  injustice,  and  stilling  the  bosom  that  throbbed  at  tyranny, 


272 

Have  we  ever  \vfested  from  the  Hindoo  his  rice-field  ?— -from  the  Citl  - 
galese  his  aromatic  groves  ? — from  the  South-Sea  Islander  his  liberty  ? 
Have  we  introduced  among  them  new  and  mortal  diseases,  destructive 
weapons  before  unknown,  and  vices  more  fatal  to  the  soul,  than  the 
pestilence  to  the  body  ?  Heaven  forbid  that  a  Christian,  who  holdeth 
in  his  hand  the  light  of  life,  should  be  unwilling  to  cast  its  beam  upon 
any  land  lying  in  darkness,  or  even  indifferent  whether  any  nation  under 
heaven  should  continue  to  "  sit  under  the  shadow  of  death."  But 
ought  he  not  first  to  relume  those  tapers  which  his  ancestors  aided  in 
extinguishing  ?  first  to  guide  those  wanderers  whom  he  has  contributed 
to  plunge  deeper  in  the  labyrinth  of  woe  ?  Ask  the  man  of  integrity,  if 
ke  ought  not  first  to  discharge  his  debts,  ere  he  indulge  in  the  luxury  of 
benevolence  ?  But  what  shall  we  render  to  those  whom  we  have  bereft 
of  territory,  of  liberty,  and  of  happiness  ?  What  can  we  offer,  but  the 
hope  of  Heaven  !  Life  to  them  is  as  a  sealed  book,  and  Death  an  abyss 
of  horror ;  but  we  can  teach  them  to  read  from  one  the  lesson  of  resig 
nation,  and  to  behold  the  darkness  of  the  other  kindle  with  the  glories 
of  the  resurrection. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  every  nation  which  has  established  per 
manent  colonies  in  America,  has  assumed  as  a  first  principle,  the  conver 
sion  of  the  natives  ;  and  that  every  one  has  been  either  forgetful  of  the 
promise,  or  unfortunate  in  its  execution*  Spain  bore  upon  her  blood 
stained  banners,  the  peaceful  semblance  of  the  cross.  But  so  ill  did  her 
charitable  pretensions  comport  with  her  execrable  barbarities,  that  the 
miserable  natives,  after  a  full  explanation  of  the  doctrines  of  her  church, 
were  accustomed  to  say,  that  they  "  had  rather  endure  the  sufferings  of 
hell,  than  to  enter  the  abodes  of  heaven,  if  they  must  dwell  there  with 
Spaniards."  A  Prince,  whom  they  offered  a  mansion  in  a  better  world, 
after  having  deprived  him  of  every  comfort  in  this,  inquired,  "  Is  this 
heaven  of  which  you  speak,  the  place  where  you  Spaniards  go  after 
death  ?"  On  their  replying  in  the  affirmative,  he  answered  in  the 
strong  language  of  nature,  "  Then  let  me  go  to  another  place." 

France,  with  the  ostensible  design  of  promulgating  Christianity, 
commenced  her  settlements  in  the  New- World.  Yet  Champlain,  who 
came  thither  under  her  auspices,  in  the  year  1603,  seemed  to  think  that 
this  design  might  best  be  promoted  by  a  war  among  the  savages  !  A£- 


273 

oordingly  he  provoked  sanguinary  conflicts,  between  the  aborigines  and 
Hurons,  and^  the  powerful  confederacy  of  Iroquois.  Fields  were  watered 
with  blood,  yet  the  "  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness  sprang  not." 
The  next  year,  Henry  IV  of  France,  gave  the  Sieur  de  Monts,  grants 
of  land  in  Acadia,  now  Nova  Scotia,  and  he  bound  himself  to  propagate 
the  doctrines  of  the  cross  among  the  aborigines.  Charlevoix  asserts 
that  his  monarch  would  not  again  have  received  Canada,  when  it  was 
restored  to  him  by  Charles  First  of  England,  (who  after  taking  it  found 
its  expenses  too  greatly  overbalancing  its  profits,)  had  it  not  been  for  the 
design  of  converting  the  natives.  But  how  did  the  conduct  of  Fiance 
comport  with  her  professions  ?  A  few  Romish  priests  and  Jesuits, 
disseminated  the  peculiar  tenets  of  tbeir  belief,  but  did  they  ameliorate 
the  condition  of  the  savage,  by  mingling  his  simple  adoration  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  with  the  worship  of  gods  innumerable  ?  or  illuminate  his 
mental  darkness  by  teaching  him  to  bow  down  to  "  images  made  like 
unto  corruptible  things  ?"  Yet  France  has  not  been  tinged  like  Spain 
with  the  deepest  dies  of  cruelty.  Candour  requires  the  acknowledgment 
that  some  of  her  holy  men  have  evinced  a  strong  interest  in  the  religious 
instruction  of  the  natives,  mingled  with  that  national  urbanity  which  has 
powerfully  gained  the  affections  of  many  of  the  sons  of  the  forest.  "  On 
the  walls  of  the  Chapel  of  the  Ursulines  at  Quebec,"  says  Sansom,  "  is 
still  delineated  an  elegant  picture,  representing  the  Genius  of  France, 
just  landed  upon  the  shores  of  America,  from  an  European  vessel  which 
is  seen  moored  to  the  rocks.  She  is  pointing  to  the  standard  of  the 
cross,  at  the  mast-head,  and  with  the  other  hand  offering  to  a  female 
savage  the  benefits  of  religious  instruction,  which  she  kneels  to  receive." 
The  Charter  given  by  England  to  her  first  colonists,  also  recognized 
as  an  essential  object,  the  religious  instruction  of  the  aborigines.  But 
how  did  their  conduct  in  many  instances  fulfil  this  sacred  injunction  ? 
The  natives  of  the  forest  were  seen  fading  before  their  footsteps,  like 
the  morning  mist  over  the  mountain,  as  if  their  presence,  so  far  from 
imparting  spiritual  life,  destroyed  even  the  principle  of  animal  existence. 
The  example  of  many  of  the  traders,  who  by  frequent  intercourse  with 
them  gave  the  strongest  representation  of  what  they  supposed  Christian 
ity  was,  almost  universally  contradicted  a  religion  which  forbids  fraud, 
#nd  tyranny.  Yet  even  then,  such  was  their  expectation  of  seeing  some 


274 

practical  influence  flowing  from  it,  that  the  first  settlers,  who  witnessed 
the  emotions  of  their  surprize,  were  accustomed  to  hear  them  say,  with 
a  solemn  countenance,  "  You  know  God !  will  you  tell  falsehoods, 
Englishman?"  When  the  doctrines  of  a  pure  religion,  have  been 
forcibly  explained  to  them,  how  often  has  their  effect  been  destroyed  by 
examples  of  vice  and  barbarity.  How  miserably  has  a  system  of  holi- 
uess  been  undermined  by  the  sins  of  those  who  professed  to  establish  it. 
A  zealous  Missionary,  once  reasoning  with  the  natives,  on  the  impor 
tance  of  moral  virtues,  when  derived  from  rectified  principles,  was  inter 
rupted  by  a  Chief,  who  rising,  said  with  great  earnestness,  "  Hold  your 
tongue  !  Go  home,  and  teach  your  own  people  not  to  lie,  get  drunk, 
and  cheat  poor  Indians :  then  come  and  preach  to  us,  and  we  will  believe 
you."  "They  have  always  been  ready  to  retort  upon  us,"  says  Gen. 
Lincoln,  in  his  observations  on  the  Indians,  "  where  are  the  good  effects 
of  your  religion  ?  We,  of  the  same  tribe,  have  no  contentions  among 
ourselves  respecting  property :  and  no  man  envies  the  enjoyment  and 
happiness  of  his  neighbour  !  But  they  have  very  different  opinions 
respecting  us.  These  impressions  ought  to  be  removed  :  has  it  ever 
been  attempted?" 

Several  Seneca  Chiefs,  who  in  the  year  1818,  were  much  noticed  in 
England,  where  they  excited  great  curiosity,  express  themselves  in  the 
following  manner,  in  an  address  to  some  benevolent  people  of  the  Society 
of  Friends  at  Leeds. 

"  The  great  injuries  we  have  received  from  white  men,  the  wicked 
ness  we  saw  constantly  practised  among  them,  greatly  strengthened  our 
minds  against  their  ways,  and  their  religion  ;  thinking  it  impossible  that 
any  good  could  come  out  of  a  people,  where  so  much  wickedness  dwelt. 
In  this  bondage  have  we  and  our  fathers  been  held  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years,  retiring  and  wasting  away  before  the  white  men,  our 
means  of  subsistence  diminishing,  corrupting  ourselves  with  their  sins, 
hardening  ourselves  in  our  afflictions,  destruction  before  us,  and  no 
arm  to  deliver." 

While  we  urge  that  the  just  claims  which  our  aborigines  have  on  us 
for  religious  instruction  should  no  longer  be  slighted,  can  it  be  thought 
of  inferior  importance,  that  those  Christians  who  have  intercourse  with 
should  strive  to  exemplify  the  moral  virtues  which  their  faith 


275 

enjoins  '—that  those  who  preach  the  law,  should  neither  make  veid  the 
law,  nor  through  the  errors  of  their  brethren  "  find  the  gospel  made  of 
none  effect." 

Note  4. — Line  123. 

"  Thus  Renatus  spake." 

This  passage  is  a  close  paraphrase  of  the  speech  of  Charles  Renatus 
Hicks,  to  the  messenger  who  first  proposed  to  him  on  the  part  of  our 
government,  to  extend  the  benefits  of  instruction  to  the  children  of  his 
tribe.  This  interesting  individual  received  the  name  of  Renatus  at  his 
baptism,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gambould,  the  Moravian  missionary  ;  and 
has  continued  by  his  sincerity,  zeal,  and  Christian  example,  to  fulfil  the 
high  hopes  which  the  dawn  of  his  piety  excited  in  the  breast  of  his  spiritual 
father.  His  influence  in  his  nation,  which  is  considerable,  is  faithfully 
demoted  to  the  aid  of  the  missionaries  and  the  promotion  of  their  sacred 
cause.  The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  this  excellent  chief  to  a 
friend  in  New-England,  dated  1818,  furnishes  a  pleasing  specimen  of  his 
sentiments,  and  his  style.  "  Go  on,  and  inflame  the  light  to  greater 
brightness  in  the  souls  of  your  believers  in  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ, 
that  they  may  suffer  the  red  man  to  come  with  them  to  the  fountain-head, 
which  burst  forth  in  healing  streams  upon  Mount  Calvary,  giving  all 
the  human  family  to  be  as  one  in  Christ.  This  shall  warm  the  cold- 
hearted  white  man  to  encourage  the  red  man  to  come  and  taste  the  heav 
enly  manna.  Then  shall  the  red  man  acknowledge  that  his  elder  brother 
was  kind  to  him  in  distress,  and  gave  him  clothes  when  naked,  and  drink 
when  thirsty.  Then  shall  both  enjoy  His  love,  who  is  the  first  and  the 
last,  and  liveth  forevermore ;  and  never  more  quarrel  about  our  covering 
the  Mother-Earth,  though  the  Red  Man  once  lorded  over  her  desertedt 
waste." 

JVo.  5.— Line  145. 

"  Methinks  the  bounds 

Of  distance  fleet  !  and  bright,  prevailing  rays 
Reveal  the  scene." 

Brainerd,  in  the  Cherokee  nation,  was  the  first  institution  among  our 
aborigines,  upon  a  plan  combining  Christianity  with  civilization.  There, 


276 

the  experiment  was  first  made,  whether  Indians  would  resign  their  children 
to  foreign  teachers,  and  whether  those  children  were  capable  of  the  appli 
cation,  the  proficiency,  the  subordination  of  those,  whose  infancy  had 
passed  amid  higher  privileges.  Success  has  crowned  an  attempt  which 
commenced  amid  the  fears  of  many,  and  the  humble  hopes  of  a  few. 
The  children  of  the  forest  have  cheerfully  adopted  a  system  of  methodical 
study  and  labour,  more  strict  than  we  find  established  among  ourselves. 
Their  progress  has  been  almost  universally  rapid,  and  their  minds  are 
considered  by  their  teachers  of  an  excellent  order.  That  learning  which 
the  child  of  indulgence  views  with  aversion,  and  for  the  partial  acqui 
sition  of  which  he  fancies  himself  entitled  to  reward,  they  consider  as 
recreations.  Food  and  raiment,  which  he  receives  without  thanks,  they 
esteem  as  favours,  exciting  gratitude.  Among  them  also,  are  some 
happy  students  of  the  "  wisdom  that  cometh  from  above  ;"  and  the 
important  influence  acquired  by  the  Missionaries  over  the  minds  of  the 
parents,  by  attention  to  the  welfare  of  their  children,  is  a  channel 
through  which  much  good  may  enter. 

The  experiment  first  tried  among  the  Cherokees  has  been  repeated 
among  the  Choctaws  and  Great  Osages,  so  that  already,  at  a  variety  of 
stations,  several  hundred  native  children  are  listening  to  the  voice  of 
Instruction. 

Whether  the  Indians  ever  can  be  civilized,  still  remains  a  question 
with  many  cautious  minds.  If  they  ever  can,  now  is  the  time  :  when 
famine  and  misery  have  forced  them  to  seek  a  refuge,  and  when  that 
refuge  is  provided  for  them  in  the  arms  of  humanity.  But  reason 
assures  us,  that  the  process  must  be  slow.  National  character  is  not 
modified,  much  less  renovated,  in  a  moment.  By  the  time  that  the 
whole  of  the  present  generation  has  past  away,  the  point  may  be  decided. 
Yet  if  in  civilized  countries,  where  education  exerts  its  sway  with  fewer 
obstacles,  the  children  even  of  virtuous  parents  sometimes  prove  faithless 
both  to  the  example  of  the  one,  and  the  impression  of  the  other  ;  much 
ought  to  be  expected  of  a  roving  and  untutored  race,  to  counteract  the 
purposes  of  instruction,  and  repress  the  enthusiasm  of  hope. 


277 


Note  6.— -Line  1 57. 

"Almost  tki/f'rvcnt  prayr 
jBursts  on  my  ear,  blest  Kingsbury." 

At  a  time  when  missions  to  the  East  almost  monopolized  the  exer 
tions  of  Christians,  the  Rev.  Cyrus  Kingsbury  was  revolving  amid  the 
solitude  of  the  student's  cell,  the  design  of  devoting  himself  to  our 
western  aborigines.  With  firmness  worthy  of  his  cause,  he  penetrated 
the  lonely  forest,  and  established  the  first  permanent  institution  in  which 
the  children  of  our  natives  had  ever  been  taught  to  blend  the  arts  of 
civilized  life  with  the  hopes  of  an  immortal  existence.  When  the  first 
obstacles  to  an  institution  have  been  surmounted,  he  has  left  it  to  form 
others  in  the  wilderness ;  choosing  not  to  "  rest  in  his  labours,  but  to 
bear  the  burden,  and  heat  of  the  day."  Only  a  few  years  have  elapsed, 
since  his  solitary  tent  was  pitched  among  the  wilds  of  Chickamaugah ; 
now,  many  Christians  have  entered  the  same  path,  to  water  the  seed 
in  the  desert,  and  to  forget  their  toil  amid  the  joy  of  harvest.  This 
self-devoted  band  may  be  considered  as  adopting  the  plan  which  filled 
the  discriminating  mind  of  Eliot,  the  first  Indian  apostle,  who  in  his 
early  intercourse  with  them,  declared,  that  in  order  to  succeed  in  their 
conversion  to  Christianity,  it  was  necessary  that  "  they  should  be  taken 
off  from  their  wild  way  of  living,  and  brought  into  some  kind  of  civil 
.society." 

Note  7.— Line  188. 

"  Catharine,  hail ! 
Our  sister  in  the  faith." 

This  particular  notice  of  an  individual,  when  rr.any  of  the  native 
pupils  have  distinguished  themselves  by  proficiency  in  studv  and  cheer 
ful  acquiescence  in  the  rules  of  their  new  institutions,  may  be  explained 
by  the  circumstance  that  she  was  the  first  among  that  number,  who 
embraced  Christianity.  A  short  time  after  she  became  a  member  of  the 
school  at  Brainerd,  which  then  bore  the  original  name  of  Chickamaugah, 
Catharine  Brown,  at  that  time  about  the  age  of  16  years,  was  remarked 
for  her  rapid  progress  in  the  various  branches  of  education,  and  for  the 
influence  of  pure  religion  upon  her  heart  and  deportment.  A  variety  of 

24 


278 

ornaments  with  which  she  was  furnished  by  her  parents,  had  been  wor« 
with  some  haughtiness,  as  valuable  aids  to  a  comely  appearance.  These 
were  of  her  own  accord  laid  aside,  and  offered  to  assist  in  defraying  the 
expenses  of  the  mission.  On  the  minds  of  those  of  her  companions  who 
seemed  less  sensible  than  herself  of  the  advantages  extended  to  them, 
she  strove  to  impress  the  magnitude  of  their  privileges.  Soon  after  the 
establishment  of  the  school,  one  of  the  instructers  writes,  "  Catharine 
takes  great  pains  to  make  those  little  Cherokees,  who  are  inclined  to  be 
inconsiderate,  understand  the  privilege  they  enjoy  in  atte  ding  school 
here.  Often  has  she  been  heard  interceding  for  them  with  her  Father 
in  Heaven.  Every  night  she  reads  the  Scriptures,  and  prays  with  those 
little  girls,  who  lodge  in  the  same  apartment :  and  every  day  she  gives 
increasing  evidence  that  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  her  heart." 
Since  that  period  she  has  become  more  extensively  known  throughout  the 
Christian  community,  as  an  interesting  example  of  the  power  of  that  holy 
principle  which  at  once  renovates,  fortifies,  and  exalts  our  nature.  She 
has  become  a  faithful  Instructress  in  a  school  recently  established  among 
her  tribe  :  and  her  brother,  a  promising  young  man,  who  has  also  em 
braced  our  religion,  is  receiving  in  the  excellent  institution  at  Cornwall 
(Connecticut)  an  education  to  fit  him  for  a  missionary  to  his  people. 
"  Oh  how  great  would  be  the  blessing,"  he  exclaims  in  the  glowing, 
unrestrained  language  of  nature,  "  could  we  see  many  young  heathen 
become  heralds  of  salvation  to  their  dear  benighted  countrymen,  see 
them  hail  the  little  flock  of  Christ  at  the  Cherokee  nation,  and  overthrow 
the  dominion  of  darkness  there,  and  make  the  banks  of  Chickamaugah 
tremble,  and  fly  on  the  wings  of  heavenly  love  over  the  lofty  Lookout, 
and  visit  the  slumbering  inhabitants  there ;  and  reach  the  plains  of 
Creek-Path,  and  turn  that  path  towards  heaven,  that  it  may  be  travelled 
by  Cherokees  also ;  and  thus  go  on  until  Spring-Place,  Taloney, 
Tsatuga,  and  all  the  people,  acknowledge  God  as  their  Saviour." 

The  Lookout  is  a  majestic  mountain,  whose  base  is  washed  by  the 
Tennessee  River,  and  the  places  alluded  to,  in  this  sentence,  are  villages 
of  the  Cherokee  territory,  some  of  them  within  the  vicinity  of  the  former 
abode  of  the  writer. 


279 


Note  Q.—Line  198. 

"  And  thou  too,  Warrior  brace  ! 
Undaunted  Charles — " 

Among  the  first  converts  to  Christianity,  from  our  American  wilds, 
by  the  recent  exertions  of  benevolence,  was  an  intrepid  Cherokee  war 
rior,  by  the  name  of  Charles  Reece.  In  our  last  war  with  Great  Britain 
he  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle  of  the  Horse-shoe,  by  swimming 
across  the  river  in  the  face,  and  under  the  fire  of  the  enemy,  and  bringing 
off  the  boats  in  triumph.  As  a  testimony  of  valour,  he  received  from 
government  a  musket,  richly  ornamented  with  silver.  This  bold  war 
rior  was  so  much  affected  by  the  religious  instructions  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Cornelius,  when  a  traveller  in  that  country,  that  he  sank  at  his  feet,  as 
if  utterly  deprived  of  strength,  and  desiring  to  become  as  a  little  child, 
that  he  might  learn  in  humility,  the  words  of  his  Saviour.  The  day 
after,  he  came  several  miles  to  find  the  missionaries  at  Brainerd,  in 
quiring  of  them,  with  the  deepest  solemnitv,  "  Can  you  tell  me  what 
God  wants  me  to  do  ?"  and  in  conformity  to  their  instructions,  resigned 
his  imperfect  theory,  for  the  knowledge  and  practice  of  a  consistent 
religion. 

Note  9.— Line  212. 

"  His  ardent  tone,  as  through  the  wilds  he  bent 

His  solitary  way — " 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Cornelius,  now  of  Salem  (Massachusetts,)  was  ap 
pointed  in  1817,  to  travel  through  the  United  States,  in  order  to  excite 
the  benevolence  of  the  people  in  favour  of  the  mission  to  our  aborigines, 
tyhich  had  been  patronized  by  government ;  and  likewise  to  visit  several 
of  the  tribes  upon  our  borders,  and  discover  with  what  dispositions  they 
would  meet  the  designs  of  mercy.  These  important  offices  were  dis 
charged  with  such  a  happy  combination  of  zeal  and  ability,  that  many 
hearts  ascribe  their  first  deep  sympathy  for  this  miserable  race,  to  his 
eloquent  description  of  the  woes  "  of  our  brother,  perishing  within  ou* 
gates." 


280 


Note  10. — Line  321. 

"  Thou  mild  Moravian  Sister." 

Mrs.  Gambold,  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  John  Gambold,  aided  in 
bearing  the  burdens,  and  performing  the  duties  of  a  missionary,  with 
distinguished  zeal  and  ability,  for  a  period  of  sixteen  years.  Her 
exertions  were  devoted  to  the  Cherokees,  and  her  residence  was  at 
Spring-place  in  Tennessee.  She  was  admired  in  early  life,  for  her 
amiable  and  refined  manners,  and  for  the  possession  of  those  accomplish 
ments  which  are  highly  valued  in  polished  society.  For  fourteen  years 
she  was  an  Instructress  in  the  Female  Seminary  at  Bethlehem  (Pennsyl- 
nia),  beloved  by  those  who  were  under  her  care,  and  happy  in  an  em 
ployment  which  at  once  gave  her  independence,  esteem,  and  the  con 
sciousness  of  an  useful  life.  "  Yet  there,"  she  says,  "  my  equally 
favourite  object  was  to  throw  my  humble  mite  into  the  depressed  scale  of 
our  poor  aborigines.  Strongly  did  I  feel  for  their  situation  ;  and  whoever 
spoke  or  acted  in  their  favour  was  my  friend.  My  heart  bled  at  the 
view  of  their  accumulated  wrongs."  Moved  by  this  tender  and  ardent 
zeal,  she  decided  to  renounce  the  comforts  of  her  situation,  the  allure 
ments  of  refined  society,  and  to  endure  perils  in  the  wilderness.  With 
unabating  firmness,  with  the  most  tender  sentiments  of  piety,  she  dis 
charged  the  duties,  and  sustained  the  privations  of  her  station.  To  the 
wandering  natives,  she  exemplified  the  Apostle's  precept,  that  "  God  is 
love :  and  that  he  who  dwelleth  in  love,  dwelleth  in  God."  With  the  most 
endearing  condescension,  she  poured  instruction  into  the  minds  of  their 
ignorant  children,  waiting  patiently  for  the  harvest.  "  Our  institution 
for  the  young,"  she  writes  in  1819,  "is  at  present  small.  But  how 
good  is  our  Saviour !  Some  of  those  dearly  beloved  pupils  hath  he 
already  brought  into  the  ark  of  safety."  The  promising  Cherokee 
youth,  who  received  the  name  of  Elias  Boudinot,  and  is  now  pursuing 
his  studies  in  the  institution  at  Cornwall  (Connecticut,)  acquired  the 
rudiments  of  learning  and  piety  from  this  excellent  woman.  She 
exerted  herself  in  forming  a  Sunday  school  for  the  blacks,  who,  she 
observes,  used  "  formerly  to  profane  our  most  holy  festivals,  the  Lord's 
day,  Christmas,  and  Easter;  nor  were  our  repeated  remonstrances  of  any 
avail."  A  native  woman,  by  the  name  of  Margaret- Ann  Crutchfield, 


who  with  her  husband  was  interested  in  teaching  the  African  school,  is 
affectionately  styled  by  Mrs.  Gambold,  "  the  first  fruits  of  the  nation, 
which  it  had  pleased  our  dear  Lord  to  give  us."  She  was  a  niece  pf 
Charles  Renatus  Hicks,  and  her  piety,  like  his,  proved  to  be  both  sincere 
and  lasting.  Her  ardent  feelings  were  often  strongly  excited  by  the 
oppressions,  and  spiritual  darkness  of  her  people.  Having  been  taught 
to  read  and  write  by  her  benefactress,  she  thus  expresses  herself  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend  in  New-England,  bearing  date  in  the  winter  of  1819. 
"  I  feel  great  concern  for  my  poor  nation.  The  white  people  drive 
some  of  them  from  their  houses,  and  from  settlements  upon  their  own 
lands.  One  old  man,  who  was  driven  out  in  this  manner,  moved  to 
some  distance,  where  he  lives  in  a  camp.  Then  this  old  man  begged 
the  white  people,  who  took  possession  of  his  place,  for  a  boat,  that  he 
and  his  family  might  go  to  the  Arkansas.  But  they  answered  him 
that  he  might  make  a  canoe,  and  get  to  that  country,  as  he  could.  If 
such  things  are  allowed,  we  know  not  what  will  become  of  us.  I  think 
our  good  Father,  the  President,  is  ignorant  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
white  people  here.  I  believe  that  he  is  our  friend,  and  wishes  to  do 
right  for  the  Indians.  There  are  a  good  many  of  us,  who  wish  to  re 
main  in  our  own  country.  We  have  just  begun  to  see  good  days,  by 
having  the  gospel  preached  to  us.  My  dear  brother  and  sister  Gam- 
bold,  have  been  labouring  in  this  country  for  thirteen  years.  It  is  very 
painful  to  them,  after  labouring  so  long,  to  see  the  Indians  driven  away. 
My  uncle  Charles  R.  Hicks  has  gone  on  to  the  President  at  Washing- 
tan,  to  plead  our  cause.  I  trust  our  Saviour  will  support  him,  and 
make  all  end  well.  If  he  should  not  succeed,  I  know  that  we  are  gone. 
But  one  thing  we  know,  that  our  dear  Saviour  will  never  forsake  us." 
The  death  of  this  interesting  convert  took  place  in  October  1820,  and 
was  attended  with  peaceful,  even  triumphant  hopes.  Mrs.  Gambold, 
in  her  account  of  the  scene,  adds  a  little  circumstance  expressive  of  the 
reverence  which  the  natives  entertain  for  true  piety,  even  before  they 
have  been  led  to  renounce  their  own  debasing  superstition.  The  even 
ing  after  the  funeral,  a  large  meteor  was  observed,  emitting  vivid  streams 
of  light,  and  attended  with  an  explosion  like  thunder.  "  This,"  said  one 
ef  them,  with  their  characteristic  gravity,  "  this  is  a  warning  to  us.  It 
signifieth  that  a  good  woman  hath  died," 


At  the  institution  of  the  recent  missions  among  the  Cherokees,  the 
faithful  Moravian  labourers,  forgetting  that  narrow  division  of  sect  which 
too  often  causes  coldness  and  contention  in  the  family  of  Christ,  received 
the  new  occupants  at  Brainerd,  with  the  most  ardent  affection.  Mrs. 
Gambold  mentions  in  a  letter,  "  How  great  was  our  joy,  after  many 
years  hoping  and  wishing  with  tearful  eyes,  for  more  labourers  in  the 
field  of  our  dear  Lord,  which  is  truly  large,  and  requires  many  sowers, 
when  our  beloved  brother  Kingsbury  entered  our  little  abode  with  a 
cheerful  countenance,  ready,  through  divine  assistance,  to  do  his  utmost 
in  cultivating  the  long  neglected  soil,  and  in  preparing  a  harvest  for  that 
dear  Redeemer,  who  shed  his  precious  blood  not  only  for  us,  but  for  the 
Indians  also." 

In  a  public  notice  of  her  death,  her  friendship,  and  even  maternal 
kindness  to  the  Missionaries  of  another  persuasion  is  gratefully  recorded. 
"  By  the  variety  of  her  useful  acquirements,  she  commanded  the  respect 
of  all  who  knew  her ;  and  by  the  amiableness  of  her  deportment,  and 
the  disinterestedness  of  her  services,  conciliated  the  affections  of  an 
untutored  people.  But  she  looked  above  human  approbation,  her  heart 
was  fixed  upon  her  Saviour,  and  beyond  a  doubt,  her  services  in  his 
cause  will  not  pass  unrewarded."  To  these  remarks  upon  this  excellent 
woman,  may  be  added  an  extract  from  the  London  Missionary  Register, 
conferring  on  the  religious  denomination  to  which  she  belonged,  a  tribute 
of  praise,  honourable  both  to  the  merit  that  deserves,  and  the  liberality 
that  bestows  it.  "  It  is  but  justice  to  the  United  Brethren  to  say,  that 
they  make  the  best  missionaries  in  the  world :  for  to  a  persevering,  tem 
perate  zeal  that  never  tires,  they  join  habits  of  personal  industry  which 
enables  them  to  subsist  at  a  very  small  expense  to  their  employers.  The 
expense  of  their  establishment  at  Gnadenthal,  amounting  to  £  600  per 
annum,  is  defrayed  by  the  Missionaries  themselves,  with  a  deficiency  of 
only  £  1 9.  They  have  completely  won  the  affections  of  the  Hottentots, 
have  prevailed  on  them  to  shake  off  their  habits  of  sloth,  and  are  rapidly 
bringing  them  to  a  state  of  civilization." 


283 
Note  11. — lane  3oG. 

"  Soft  glows  the  turf 
O't?r  the  young  Oscige  Orphan,—-" 

For  a  particular  account  of  this  interesting  child,  see  a  work  recently 
published  by  the  Rev.  E.  Cornelius,  of  Salem  (Massachusetts),  entitled 
"  The  little  Osage  Captive." 

Note  12.— Line  494. 

"  They  urge  their  lingering  kindred,  '  Haste  with  us, 

And  we  unll  do  thee  good.'—" 

Numbers  x,  29.  This  will  be  recognized  as  the  invitation  of  the 
Jewish  Lawgiver  to  his  brother,  when  Israel  was  about  to  remove  to  the 
promised  land.  Its  spirit  seems  still  to  be  infused  into  the  minds  of 
those  who  are  engaged  in  the  formation  of  benevolent  societies  ;  and 
among  the  young,  the  sympathy  arising  from  it,  is  almost  irresistible. 
The  age  in  which  we  live,  has  been  called  the  age  of  charity  ;  and  it 
is  peculiarly  distinguished  by  the  charities  of  childhood.  Innumerable 
associations  for  the  most  disinterested  purposes,  of  bands  just  entering 
into  life,  adorn  our  country.  Apart  from  the  aid  which  has  thus  been 
rendered  to  poverty,  and  to  the  heathen,  the  effect  is  important  upon 
the  unformed  minds  of  the  actors.  For  when  industry  or  self-denial 
are  made  the  basis  of  their  charity,  energies  are  awakened,  and  habits 
cherished,  which  look  beyond  the  happiness  of  this  life,  and  affect  the 
destinies  of  Eternity.  The  great  designs  of  the  present  century,  in  the 
accomplishment  of  which,  both  Infancy  and  Age  unite,  are  thus  beauti 
fully  illustrated  by  the  poet  Montgomery. 

*  "  In  the  Bible  Society,  all  names  and  distinctions  of  sects  are  blended, 
till  they  are  lost,  like  the  prismatic  colours,  in  a  ray  of  pure  and  perfect 
light.  In  the  Missionary  work,  though  divided,  they  are  not  discordant; 
but  like  the  same  colours  displayed  and  harmonized  in  the  rainbow,  they 
form  an  arch  of  glory,  ascending  on  the  one  hand  from  earth  to  heaven, 
and  on  the  other,  dascending  from  heaven  to  earth,  a  bow  of  promise,  a 
covenant  of  peace,  a  sign  that  the  storm  is  passing  away,  and  the  '  Sun 
of  Righteousness,  with  healing  on  his  wings,'  breaking  forth  over  all 
nations." 


284 
Note  13.— Une  57(X 

"  —  thou  whose  heart 
Gathering  the  groans  of  our  rejected  tribes 
Compassionate  devis'd  their  good." 

His  excellency  James  Monroe,  the  present  Chief  Magistrate  of  the 
United  States,  has  distinguished  himself  by  a  kind  regard  to  the  interests 
of  our  aborigines.  He  has  awakened  their  gratitude  and  confidence ; 
and  they  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  him  as  a  Father,  who  is  solicitous 
for  their  welfare,  and  to  view  him  as  a  Philanthropist,  listening  to  "  the 
sighing  of  the  prisioner."  The  recent  missions  are  indebted  much  to 
his  patronage,  for  the  degree  of  success  which  has  given  strength  to 
their  infancy.  In  his  tour  through  the  western  states  in  1819,  he  visit 
ed  Brainerd,  gave  particular  directions  for  the  erection  of  a  building, 
intended  for  the  instruction  of  female  pupils,  and  expressed  the  most 
friendly  interest  in  the  whole  establishment.  This  benevolent  regard  to 
the  miserable,  which  will  long  render  his  name  respected  and  beloved, 
seems  now  to  be  pervading  the  higher  ranks  of  society,  promising  to 
overcome  that  stern  indifference  which  has  too  long  been  entertained 
towards  the  sons  of  the  forest,  by  a  nation  which  covered  their  glory. 
In  the  language  of  Scripture  "the  set  time  to  favour  them  has  come." 
No  stronger  proof  of  this  assertion  need  be  adduced,  than  the  constitu 
tion  of  a  Society  recently  organized  at  the  seat  of  government,  under  the 
appellation  of  "  The  American  Society  for  promoting  the  civilization 
and  general  improvement  of  the  Indian  tribes  within  the  United  States  :'* 
and  which  comprizes  a  great  proportion  of  those  illustrious  characters, 
whose  virtues  dignify  their  opinions,  and  whose  opinions  must  influence 
•multitudes  in  our  great  community. 


ERRATA. 


Page 

13, 

line  236, 

/or  "  Chymistry," 

read 

Chemistry. 

tt 

18, 

"    338, 

"    "  Taricssin," 

tt 

Taliesin. 

« 

25, 

"     503, 

**    "  Hu^onot," 

tt 

Huguenot. 

M 

43. 

"     273, 

"    "  stroin," 

n 

storm. 

« 

56, 

"     591, 

..    u  swept  by  winds,"  " 

swept  by  the  winds. 

« 

76, 

"  i037, 

"    "  Mackbcth," 

tt 

Macbeth. 

M 

86, 

"  1280, 

"    "  twin'd," 

tt 

turn'd. 

<( 

94, 

"     110, 

««    "Burby." 

H 

Bur  ley. 

« 

96, 

"     172, 

«    "blest," 

M 

blessed. 

M 

102, 

«    299, 

"    "her," 

" 

it's. 

« 

103, 

"    321, 

"    "  pavilliou's," 

" 

pavillions. 

M 

128, 

"    890, 

u    «f«ry," 

H 

fiery. 

(( 

156, 

"      65, 

"    "love," 

• 

lore. 

U 

164, 

"    232, 

"    u  annals," 

H 

annal. 

(1 

176, 

«     522, 

"    "  unodorous," 

M 

inodorous. 

« 

184, 

«       16, 

*«    "  Hascala," 

(« 

Tlascala. 

d 

184, 

"       24, 

«    "Hascalans," 

H 

Tlascalans. 

H 

187, 

«       30, 

"    «  Tehewah," 

H 

Yohewah. 

K 

190, 

"         2, 

«    "deposit," 

• 

deposite. 

H 

198, 

«       26, 

"    "  the  best  six," 

H 

there  is  one  for  the  best  six. 

« 

206, 

«       16, 

"    "pertcesi," 

H 

pertsesa. 

H 

U 

"       25, 

"    *•  tendentes," 

« 

tondeiites. 

M 

H 

«       26, 

"    «'  magnanima," 

tt 

magnanimie. 

M 

U 

"       33, 

"    "  Expletus," 

tt 

Expletos. 

ft 

207, 

"         2, 

"    "  Dizos," 

tt 

Diros. 

tt 

210, 

"       14, 

"     "  1759," 

tt 

1559. 

U 

220, 

"         !> 

"    "  Grosnold," 

tt 

Gosnold. 

U 

222, 

"       32, 

"    "falling," 

tt 

fatting. 

11 

233, 

«       26, 

"     "  1623," 

tt 

1603. 

U 

235, 

"         2, 

*'    "  supercede,'' 

ft 

supersede. 

tt 

241, 

«        14, 

"    "  Scammomy," 

ft 

Scammony. 

M 

242, 

«       16, 

"    "  Friostcum," 

ft 

Triosteum. 

H 

252, 

"         4, 

"    "  carnelian," 

tt 

carnelion. 

(| 

2fi3, 

"       !5, 

"    "  C;-pitoliiuis," 

ft 

Capitolina. 

« 

268, 

"       27, 

"    "  ameliorate," 

« 

meliorate. 

(1 

273, 

"         1, 

"    "and," 

« 

the 

a 

273, 

«      13, 

"    "  ameliorate," 

ft 

meliorate. 

M 

276, 

"       12, 

"    tt  recreations," 

ft 

recreation. 

A  very  few  minor  errata  are  still  unnoticed. 


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